A Wilted Rose
by Emmithar
Summary: Sequel to ‘On the Edge’ Greg was sure that he and Sara were becoming closer, but when Sara’s life takes a sudden unexpected twist, Greg must learn to handle the disappointment. But when he learns the truth behind the matter, it leaves a scar bigger than a
1. Default Chapter

**A Wilted Rose**

**By: Emmithar**

**Rating: K**

**Summary: Sequel to 'On the Edge' Greg was sure that he and Sara were becoming closer, but when Sara's life takes a sudden unexpected twist, Greg must learn to handle the disappointment. But when he learns the truth behind the matter, it leaves a scar bigger than anyone could ever imagine. One, that may never heal. **

**A/N: Not overly dramatic, I had a hard time summarizing the story, there is more to it, as you will see as it unfolds. I have no idea how long this will be, or how often it will be updated, so the plan right now is just to go with me. How does that sound? **

**Thanks to all my readers who have stuck with me thus far! **

* * *

**Chapter One: A Sudden Turn**

Greg glanced from the papers he held in his hand up to the clock on the wall. Only five minutes to go, then she would be late. Shaking his head he turned his attention back down the papers, but hardly found himself concentrating on them. After all, today was the day. Today was the day Sara finally came back to work.

It had been officially two weeks since they were first suspended. Greg was more than ready to welcome her back. Instead of taking a week's vacation as planned, Greg had come back after his weeks suspension, and found himself working with Sophia. Not that that was a surprise, he had expected it, and though he had tried his best to get along with her, things just weren't working all that well.

Not as well as they worked between him and Sara, that was. Greg smiled at the thought of working together again. He had really missed her, and though he was tempted to see her a couple different times over the last few weeks, he had declined. He was nervous, mostly, but he was fairly sure of it now. Sara liked him.

When the thought first occurred, he had banished it, reminding himself that they were just friends. That's all they had ever been; really close friends. They had grown closer over the last year now, and though she hinted at him several times, it was all petty matters, things that not even she would remember saying.

But that night, two weeks ago, the smile she had given him before leaving the room, had caused him to wonder. What if they could be more than just friends? What then, would happen? Sure Greg had thought about it before, but in all those times would rather have died than ask a question of that sort.

He didn't think Sara was that interested, not until that night. Over the span of the two weeks, Greg had come to a decision. He was going to ask her tonight, well not ask, not exactly. He was just going to suggest the idea nonchalantly, and wait for her reaction.

Greg's eyes flicked back up to the clock, sighing when he saw that only one minute had passed since he had last checked. It was in that moment though that Sara walked in to the room, pulling on her lab coat.

"Sorry I'm late Greg," she apologized, grabbing a pair of gloves to pull on. "What did I miss?"

"Miss?" Greg asked, stuttering lightly as he watched her. "Miss what?"

Sara stopped in mid-process of pulling her gloves on, watching him for a moment before smiling awkwardly, her teeth showing a bit. "Are you okay?" she asked, doing her best not laugh at his expression.

Greg nodded quickly, looking away slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, I uh…I'm doing great. How about you?"

Sara laughed, shaking her head as she pulled her gloves on. "I'm doing good, I had a nice night."

"Oh?" Greg asked, raising an eyebrow. Talking now was easier, and he was a bit mad at himself for losing it for a moment. "How so?"

"Nothing," Sara gave him a smile, "Nothing big, just a…nice night."

Greg nodded, returning her smile. He gently laid the papers on the table. Keeping his head down he licked his lips, trying to get the courage to ask. "Hey Sara, could I…could I ask you a personal question? I mean, it's not really a personal question, but then again it probably is…"

He trailed off, seeing that she was staring at him again, slightly amused. "Sure, I guess," she laughed. "What's on your mind?"

_What's on my mind? _Greg laughed shortly; there was a lot on his mind, all of it on what he was about to do.

He drew in a breath, biting his lip. "What exactly did you do?" he blurted out, already cursing himself. He couldn't do it, he couldn't ask. Not yet anyways.

Greg wasn't surprised when Sara burst out laughing, having to sit down in order to regain her composure. "What is with you tonight? Working with Sophia hasn't been that bad, has it?"

Greg shrugged, "I suppose…I mean, yeah…it hasn't been pretty. I'm glad you're back."

It wasn't what he had expected, or wanted, but he was glad it had ended that way. He was too much of a chicken to ask her. Closing his eyes he let out a sigh, reminding himself that he would just have to try again later.

"Besides, I can't tell what I did tonight," Sara told him with a simple shrug, looking over his shoulder at the case file.

"You can't tell me?" Greg asked slowly, turning to look at her.

Sara nodded, without really even seeing him. "Yeah…it would be just too weird."

"Why?" Greg wondered, "oh, I know what it is."

She raised an eyebrow, watching him now. "Oh really?"

Greg nodded firmly, smirking. "You and the others were making plans for my big surprise birthday party."

"Greg," Sara exasperated, rolling her eyes. "You're birthday isn't for four months."

"Well, these things take time, four months is kind of cutting it close, right?"

Sara laughed, punching him lightly in the arm. "Get a life, why would I spend four months planning a surprise party for you then tell you all about it?"

"So it's true then?"

"No," Sara shook her head, "sorry, I'll probably get you another card though," she laughed.

"You're not supposed to tell me," Greg rolled his eyes, laughing along with her.

It became silent for a moment, the two reading through the papers separately. "So," Greg perked up after turning the page. "What did you do tonight that has you in such a good mood?"

"Well…" Sara started out, giving into a sigh. "I suppose I'll have to settle telling you all about it, since Catherine's not around and Sophia's not into girl talk."

"Such a shame," Greg joked, causing her to laugh.

Sara straightened up, waving him off. "Okay…I met this guy," she started, giving him a small smile.

Greg nodded, forcing a smile in return, but taken aback on the inside. "A guy?" Greg asked softly.

Sara nodded, "Actually, I met him a few days back, he gave me a ride home one night."

Greg's eyebrows furrowed. "You let a complete stranger give you a ride home? You know how dangerous that is?"

Sara frowned, her hands already moving to her hips. "I can take care of myself," she stated firmly. "I'm not stupid."

"Sara," Greg started off, but she intervened.

"Don't worry about it, do you want to hear this or not?"

Greg definitely didn't want to hear the rest of it, but he nodded anyways, already feeling downhearted.

"Anyways, he came by and picked me up earlier, took me out to eat at this real nice pasta bar, we had a few drinks, talked a lot. He's a really neat guy, I really like him."

Greg nodded, smiling as he looked down. "He sounds like it," Greg encouraged her, feeling stupid now at his earlier attempt to ask her if she wanted to go on a date. He was glad now that he had chickened out, only able to imagine her shooting him down. This new guy friend of hers had bought her a fancy dinner and some drinks, and Greg hadn't even gotten her a flower. Exactly what had he been thinking?

"I know, I know," Sara laughed softly, "It's not that interesting for you to listen to. But I had to tell someone, and you're about the only guy who would listen."

Greg nodded, not looking at her. "Imagine that," he muttered softly.

"What?" Sara asked, glancing up at him.

"I'm happy for you," Greg forced another smile, "we should really get to work on this, it's going to take a few hours just to read over the case, and Ecklie wants results by Friday."

Sara nodded, already in work mode, "That's going to be pushing it," she mentioned, to which Greg nodded.

"It means less chit chat, and more work." Greg sighed, it would be the only time he would be grateful for not having to think on something else other than work.

**TBC…**


	2. Thoughts

**Chapter Two: Thoughts**

They had pulled a double that day, and yet had only started on the case. Ecklie wanted the case closed in three days; something they might be able to accomplish if they pulled a double every day till then. During that time, Greg barely said a word to Sara, talking only when it was needed, and answering her with short nods of his head. His usual zest was no longer present, and if Sara noticed, she didn't say anything about it.

He didn't stop anywhere on the way home, and he had left the lab shortly after clocking off. To make matters worse, his usual parking spot was taken, leaving him with no choice but to park in the lot across the street. It had started to rain when he left the lab, so by the time he reached his door, he was thoroughly soaked.

He wasn't surprised to find his fridge nearly empty. Greg had originally planned to swing by the store and pick some food up, but the double shift had changed those plans. Depressed, tired, wet and now hungry, Greg pulled a beer from the near empty shelf, closing the refrigerator door before making his way over to the couch.

At first he just sat in the darkness of his own apartment, trying to think things through, in order to get a better understanding of everything. He knew he had been little more than a complete jerk today, and coming to that realization was making him feel even worse. Just because he was jealous didn't mean he had to treat Sara like that. After all, she was still his friend; she deserved to be treated better than that. This was why it would have never worked between them. If Greg couldn't give Sara enough credit and trust for who she saw, then he didn't deserve to have her.

Taking another long drink from the beer bottle, Greg reached over for the remote, switching the television on. He was hoping to find something to take his mind off everything for a few hours. Oprah was on the channel, and Greg frowned as he turned the volume level up.

"…and you didn't know that she was seeing another man this entire time?"

Flipping to the next channel he found it at a commercial. "Henry's Flower Delivery, let that special person know that you really do care for them!"

Greg quickly switched it to the next channel, satisfied to find that it was the news. The news was always good to watch. Besides, what were the chances that whatever they were broadcasting would remind him of Sara?

"A young happy couple says 'I do' at the top of the Stratosphere today..."

Greg switched off the television, tossing the remote on the end table. At this point he really couldn't see how things could get worse. After taking another sip he leaned his head back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. He must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew was that the phone was ringing.

He groaned, sitting up slowly, trying to work the stiffness out of his neck. The sudden realization of how terrible he felt hit him then. His entire body as sore as he pushed himself to his feet, and his head was pounding incessantly as he fumbled for the phone.

"Hello," he asked groggily, rubbing his forehead and the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

"Greg, it's Grissom, are you coming in sometime tonight?"

Greg quickly glanced up at the clock, cursing under his breath as he saw the time. "Yeah, I'm sorry, I must have forgotten to set the alarm, give me half an hour, I'll be in."

Greg hung up quickly, holding on to the counter to steady himself. He was shivering, and he had some idea to as why. He hadn't changed out of his wet clothes from before, and now he was regretting it. Wrapping his arms around his midsection, Greg wandered into his room, pulling on a quick change of clothes. If he had more time, he would have taken a hot shower in order to warm up some, but he was already late by an hour and a half.

Instead he only pulled on an extra layer of clothing, grabbing his keys as he left his apartment. Stopping for food was out of the question, if he was lucky, he could make it to work before he was two hours late. The only thing on his mind then was that Sara was going to kill him for leaving her to sort through the trash alone.

* * *

Squinting, Greg tried to will his eyes to focus on the lettering in front of him. He picked the papers up, bringing them closer to his face as he read the last part, shaking his head as he put them down. He had been working alone now for the last four hours, Sara had left earlier to interview a potential suspect. It was something Greg was glad for; he hadn't seen her tonight at all, which left him to sort through the garbage can they had brought in.

That meant that Sara was more and likely not angry with him for being late. Out of everything, the last thing Greg needed was for Sara to be angry with him. He let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead gingerly. He was beyond starving, and he wouldn't be able to break for at least another two hours.

His headache had only increased during that time, as had the chills. He still ached, all over, and moving was slow and painful. Greg moved from rubbing his forehead to rubbing the back of his neck, trying to rub the stiffness out.

"Sorry that took so long," Sara's loud voice caused him to wince some as she walked into the room. "The guy was an hour later; how are things here?"

Greg finished jotting down the last few items on the form, already pointing out the finished ones. "Found a few prints on the dumpster, but they're probably not relevant. And believe it or not, all I found in there was a bunch of trash. Nothing out of the ordinary. I don't know how Ecklie expects us to finish this by Friday."

"Are you okay?" Sara asked, sitting down across from him. "You don't look so good."

Greg shrugged, already working on the next documentation form. "I didn't really sleep all that well," he lied, squinting again as the printing went blurry.

He was startled when she reached across the table, placing a hand against his forehead. He tried to pull back, but she had already noticed. "You're burning up Greg, why did you come in if you're feeling like this?"

Greg shook his head, "We have work to do," he muttered, moving back to fill out the forms. Sara pulled the pen from his hand, prompting him to look up at her.

"Go home Greg," she told him, "Get your rest, you're no help if you're sick. Get better before it gets worse."

"I'm fine," Greg argued, leaning back in his chair.

"You look like death warmed over. Go home, get some rest, come back tomorrow if you're feeling up to it."

"I feel up to it now," Greg told her, reaching for the pen. She held it back from him shaking her head.

"Does Grissom know you're working like this?"

"That's none of your business," Greg told her, "Give me my pen back, I have work to do."

"Let's talk to Grissom first, see what he says," Sara answered, already standing.

"Fine," Greg shook his head, standing up slowly. "I'll go home, you happy?"

She nodded, "Yes, you need your rest."

Greg waved her off as he walked down the hall, his head hanging down slightly. How was it that she always won over him? Pulling his stuff from his locker, to tired to change there, he kicked his locker closed, resting his head against the cold metal. Going home had sounded wonderful, so why did he feel even worse all of the sudden?

**TBC**


	3. Returning favors

**Chapter Three: Returning the Favor**

Greg wasn't even sure how he made it home. By the time he had made it in the front door he could no longer fight the nauseated feeling in his stomach. He hadn't eaten since the previous day, so there wasn't much that came up, which probably made things worse. Dry heaves were painful, and it wasn't often that it happened only once.

Greg sat on the bathroom floor, leaning against the cupboards, one foot tucked under him while the other rested against the tub. If it was possible, he felt worse than he had earlier. The cold tile underneath him sent chills through his body, but he was too queasy to try and get up. So instead he just sat there, his arms wrapped around his stomach, head resting against the wood behind him.

He must have fallen asleep there, because the next he knew, someone was shaking him awake, talking to him. Groaning, he opened his eyes, turning towards the figure, frowning.

"Sara?" he muttered, blinking as she turned the lights on.

"Hey sleepyhead," Sara smiled at him as he rubbed his eyes. "Do you always sleep in your bathroom?"

Greg nodded, fighting off a yawn. "Yeah," he answered, closing his eyes as his vision swam. "If I ever need to use the bathroom I don't have far to go."

She laughed, resting a hand against his forehead. "Well, you can't be too sick if you can still crack jokes," she grinned at him. "But you are running quite warm."

Greg shook his head, unable to believe that. "I'm freezing," he complained, letting out a sigh.

"That's because you have the flu," she told him, moving closer. "Come on, let's get you into bed," she wrapped an arm around his torso, pulling him to his feet. Greg leaned on her heavily until he felt able to support his own weight. As they walked out of the room, Greg glanced at her, frowning still.

"How did you get in here anyways?"

"Spare key," Sara told him simply, laughing at the confused expression on his face. "Behind the mailbox," she explained.

"How did you know?" Greg asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He used his feet to kick his shoes off, hardly protesting as Sara pushed him under the covers.

"I told you where to hide it, remember?"

Greg shook his head before resting it against the pillows. "No actually, I don't."

Sara laughed as she covered him with an extra blanket. "I'll go get you some water, see if you keep that down than maybe you can take some medicine."

Greg opened an eye, watching her walk back towards the kitchen, calling after her. "You don't have too," he said, surprised to see her actually smile.

"It's okay Greg, I want to, it's no big deal," she paused by the bedroom door, leaning up against it as she watched him.

Greg laughed bitterly. "What, are you just going to stay here all day?"

He was even more surprised to see her nod. "Sara, you don't have to, you have better things to do than sit here and watch me get sick."

"Greg," Sara said with a small sigh. She moved over to the bed, sitting down on the edge. "It's okay, honestly. You saved my life; I think I can afford to spend a few hours taking care of you."

Greg rolled his eyes, he didn't quite agree with that statement, but he was too tired to really argue. It was easier to just give in sometimes. "You'll get sick," Greg warned.

She shrugged, "I'll be fine. If I get sick, I get sick. There's nothing much that I can do about that. Where do you keep your cups?"

"Above the sink," Greg muttered, yawning as he did so. Sara nodded, already moving to off the bed.

"Any chances of sleeping with me?" Greg wondered, grinning as she opened the door.

She gave him a grin, "Uhh…no. Sorry, I'm not that anxious to get sick. And I don't think Grissom wants me sick either."

"What did he say about me leaving?" Greg asked, rolling over onto his back.

"Nothing much, just hoped you'd get better soon, and he doesn't want you back until you're better. The last thing we need through the lab is an epidemic."

She left then, returning a few minutes later with a cup of water. Greg was able to drink a little before putting it aside; he had done mostly to satisfy Sara, even though his stomach protested. Lying back down, he sighed as his head sunk into the pillow. He blinked as Sara pressed a cool washcloth to his forehead, realizing for the first time how hot he was actually was.

"I picked up a few things too," Sara told him, "Some soup when you feel like eating. A good thing I did too, you have absolutely nothing to eat in here."

Greg laughed softly, resting his hands on his stomach. "Yeah, about that…I missed my shopping day."

Sara laughed, moving her hair from her eyes, "You actually have a shopping day? I just go get stuff when I need it."

Greg shrugged, "I go once a week, pick up what I need," he said between another yawn.

Sara nodded sympathetically. "Okay, get some rest, I'll be out there watching some TV if you need me."

Greg watched as she got off the bed again, shutting the lights off before closing the door most of the way, leaving it open some in order to hear him. He closed his eyes; a little relieved to know that she was nearby, his stress from earlier already wearing off.

**TBC**


	4. Wake Up Call

**Okay, so I've had a pretty bad day today. Since my boss took a personal day off, it left only my mom and I at the workplace, and normally we don't have any problems, but for some reason, she was griping on me for every little thing. I was ready to explode after the first hour! We didn't have very much come in, which usually means a lot more physical work, such as loading/unloading supplies that range between 10 and 100 lbs, and mopping the lab, which is actually very hard to do since the floor is always a disaster. **

**So anyway, I put in my eight hours, and after that, we needed to get more supplies for work. Which means more heavy lifting. So we get home, and have dinner, and I'm left to clean up the mess as my mom and uncle help my Grandmother plant some flowers, and then my mom takes my Grandmother back home about an hour later, and during this time, I'm still cleaning. We are having company over on Sunday, so I got a head start on cleaning. By the time my mom gets back, I've started a load of wash, folded clothes and put them away, cleaned up the kitchen and emptied the dishwasher, cleaned the bathroom, cleaned the litter box, picked up the living room and swept half the kitchen floor. So by the time we actually finish cleaning for the night, it's ten thirty, and by this time, I have spent 14 of the 16 hours I've been awake today, working. And out of the two hours, half an hour was spent to getting ready for work, another half an hour was spent for my one and only break at work, another half an hour was spent cleaning my little brother's desk out looking for lost homework, and my last half hour was spent eating dinner with the family. So in actuality, I haven't had any time to myself. **

**But when I try to sit down and enjoy myself for a few minutes, my mom wants me to do all these little things. It's like she assumes that I'm hooked up to an energizer battery and that I keep going and going. I mean, I don't mind helping out cleaning and such, but is it too much to ask for five minutes to myself? I'm tired, I'm sore, and I just want a few minutes to do what I want to do, is that selfish of me? Tell me if I'm wrong here.**

**So I gave up on everything I was trying to do, and that's how I ended up here, locked in my room, writing. None of you probably needed to know any of this, but I feel much better now that I have ranted and fumed at the computer screen. So I'm signing off since I have a wonderful headache, and I hope you all enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Wake up Call**

Sara had been nearly asleep when the phone rang. Change that, she had been asleep when the phone rang. It was what alerted her that she had been dozing in the first place. Groaning as she sat up, she quickly fumbled for the phone that sat on the end table next to her bed.

For a moment, she wasn't able to figure out why the endless dial tone hummed in her ear, as the ringing still sounded somewhere in the darkness. Shaking her head, she hung up the phone as she realized it was coming from her purse. Groggily she reached over, pulling her purse onto the bed as she dug the small cell phone out, flipping it open as she answered.

"Sidle."

"Hey Sara…did I wake you?"

Sara frowned, squeezing her eyes shut. "Michael?" she muttered, taking a moment to realize who it was. "How did you get this number?"

The voice on the other line was hesitant as he answered. "Uh, well, when you called me my cell phone listed it in the address book. Why?"

Rubbing her head Sara leaned forward, resting her weight on one arm. "It's my work phone," she explained, "You really shouldn't be calling it; my supervisor would throw a fit if he found out."

Sara's eyes drifted to clock as Michael began to apologize and she cut him off. "Listen, I'll give you a call later, I have to get going or I'll be late to work."

She cut him off, ending the call before he could say anything else. It wasn't like she was trying to be rude, but Michael wasn't quite the same guy she had originally met. The first few nights had been fun, relaxing even, but ever since she started going back to work, he had been hoarding her more.

When all she wanted to do was to go home and unwind, Michael was waiting for her on her doorstep. Not wanting to blow him off she would offer for him to come inside, or they would go grab a bite to eat. Saying goodbye for the night was always a difficult task, Michael still hadn't gotten the drift that she worked nights, and needed to sleep during the day.

At any rate, if she didn't go home right after work, Michael would give her a call. On her own personal cell phone that was. Sara had turned that phone off last night before going into work. It still wasn't enough to faze him apparently. She wasn't sure how Michael had gotten the number, she had never called him from her work phone; she hadn't even called him from her personal phone. It was beginning to worry her.

When the phone rang again, the soft tune taunting her as the phone buzzed between her clasped hands she was hesitant to answer it. But after the second ring she snapped it open quickly, nearly shouting into the receiver as she answered.

"What do you want?"

She immediately blushed as Grissom's voice was heard on the other end. "You okay?" he asked slowly, surprised by her unexpected outburst.

"Sorry," she apologized quickly, "bad night, didn't mean it. What's up?" She tried to lighten her tone.

"I know it's your night off, but can you make in?"

"Yeah, I was planning on it; Greg's still under the weather. I'll be there in a few," she ended the call after that, cursing lightly as she pushed the blankets off. How stupid could she be, she should have at least checked caller ID before answering.

Yawning as she stretched, Sara could only wonder dimly how much sleep she had. She had stayed that first night over at Greg's and part of the second night, until Greg had urged her to go home. He was certainly looking better, but it was easy to tell the illness had zapped him of his strength.

So it was for this reason she was deeply surprised to find Greg already at the lab by the time she got there. Frowning she came up behind him, wrapping a hand around his head. She felt him sigh under her as he put his pen down on the table.

"No I'm not running a fever anymore, and yes I'm able to keep food down," he answered in monotone, causing her to smile. Satisfied she pulled back, taking a seat next to him.

"You still sound sick," she grinned at him as he rolled his eyes.

"Just my throat," Greg responded, coughing for emphasis. "I'll be fine by tomorrow. Good as new."

Sara nodded, "That's good to hear, because Ecklie wants this done by tomorrow."

Greg raised an eyebrow, glancing up at her. "I thought he wanted it done yesterday," he commented lightly.

"Yeah, well, when he figured out we weren't going to get it done by Friday, he was kind enough to extend the date for us."

"By one day?" Greg wondered lightly, shrugging as Sara nodded. "Generous man isn't he?"

Sara laughed, clasping her hands together on the table in front of her. "So, let's review what we know."

Greg nodded, pulling several photos out from the file folder. "We have a double homicide, a single gunshot wound to the head for both victims, husband and wife. Could possibly be a murder/suicide, but unlikely, given the placement of the wounds. The husband's brother is the main suspect, but there are there others that would have wanted them dead."

Sara nodded, "Four people with motive, what about opportunity?"

"Only the brother owned a gun, but it doesn't match the gunshot wounds. Still any of them could have picked up a gun from anywhere."

Greg paused for a moment, reading over the files again. "I want to go back to the scene," he said suddenly, looking up at her. "I have a hunch; we don't have the murder weapon. I think we may have passed over it. When Sofia and I did the original sweep, we weren't given much time; we were called back to the lab."

Sara nodded, "I'll let Grissom know then, we'll get an officer out there. But the scene's been released, so if there was something there it may be gone by now."

"Or there could be something new," Greg pointed out, earning a nod from her.

"Okay then, give me ten minutes, grab your stuff and meet me out in the parking lot," Sara said standing, "Hopefully your hunch is right, Ecklie wants something new tonight or he's going to close the case."

"Which means the killer gets away free," Greg muttered. "I don't understand why he's cutting cases like these."

Sara rolled her eyes as she left the room, leaving Greg alone to pack the stuff away. He wasn't far behind, but little did he know that the choice he had made would be costly, and not only to himself.

**TBC…**

**Sorry about how short it is, will try and make the next chapter worth reading. **


	5. Underfoot

**Interesting day today, we had our trainee in, it was her first day of working at the lab. She seems to be really nice, which is a good thing because I'm working with her tomorrow. Anyways…for a period of ten minutes she followed me around the lab, right on my heels, almost in my way a few times, asking all sorts of questions. Not that I mind, but it's really creepy to have someone watch you that closely. Then I left the lab for two seconds and come back and she's running the machines! **

**Once again, not a bad thing, my boss let her run for a few minutes while I took lunch, so she knew how to start it up, and basically she jumped at it the first second she got. I guess it's a good thing when they are interested in the job, but does it have to be on my turf :D**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Underfoot **

The house, though built in the late 40's, had been refurbished several times over the years. It used to be owned by their victims, and ownership now feel into the hands of brother, unless of course the CSI team could prove that he was behind the murder. The two-story residence had been well taken care of, but one could tell easily enough that house itself was old.

It could be heard in the creaking of doors, the way the floor bent under their weight as Sara and Greg moved carefully through the open room. Kneeling down, Greg folded the rug back at the corner, running a small light across the boards. Sara shook her head as she watched him, standing only a few feet away.

"What are we looking for exactly?" she asked him, her gaze drifting around the room. They had been here now for hours, and were in the same place as they started; nowhere. When they first came here, Sara thought it was just because Greg wanted to do another sweep of the area. Watching him now though, it looked as though he was looking for something in particular.

Therefore, his answer was a surprise. "Anything," he stated, sitting back on his heels, letting out a sigh.

"There's nothing here Greg," she told him lightly. She knew that he had wanted to find something, so had she. They had no leads at the moment. "If there was, it's already been cleaned up."

Greg shook his head, glancing up towards the ceiling. "There has to be something," he mumbled quietly.

Sara knelt next to him, placing a single hand on top of his to redirect his attention back to her. "There isn't," she let out a small sigh. "We've been here for nearly ten hours, we've gone through both floors, every room. We haven't missed anything."

Greg closed his eyes, sighing. They were missing something, he could feel it in his gut, but he couldn't place his finger on what. True, they had been everywhere, had double checked everything. If they left now, there was very little chance they would be able to return. Sara knew this as well.

Standing up he shrugged Sara's hand off, walking back out into the main living room. Sara was not too far behind, she bumped into him when he came to a sudden stop, but he made no vocal comment about it.

"The wife was here," Greg stated, pointing to the floor below him. "Laying face down…the husband was several feet away, on his back."

"He was backing up," Sara suddenly said behind him.

Greg turned around, facing her. He held his hands up slightly as he began to walk backwards, taking even spaced steps, counting as he did so. The floor underneath him creaked heavily as he progressed backwards, something Sara had been noticing, but Greg hadn't seemed worry.

"Thirteen steps," Greg announced as he came to a stop, folding his arms now. "Who walks backwards thirteen steps?"

Sara shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Besides you? Someone trying to get away from something, or someone. Never take your eyes off of them, your only choice is to walk backwards…"

Greg nodded, already walking back across the room. His pace was interrupted however as the floor boards caught the edge of his shoe, effectively tripping him. Sara nearly laughed, and she would have; that is if Greg didn't disappear completely.

The floor boards, weak from years of usage, snapped easily under the sudden force of his weight, dropping him completely through the floor, the boards tearing in a jagged line. At first Sara was stunned, unable to react at the initial moment. Then suddenly reality dawned at her, and she found herself moving quickly to the hole that now was in the center of the floor.

Dropping down to all fours, she crawled close enough to see over the edge, going as far as she could, ignoring the creaking of the boards beneath her. At first she couldn't see anything; darkness enveloped the area below, and dust billowed up in the air. Fishing her flashlight from her pocket, she called Greg's name several different times, each time receiving silence in response.

Her throat felt as though it was swollen as she held the flashlight so the beam shined down into the darkness; her hands were shaking, making it hard to see anything. But the beam finally did land on pale flesh, and shortly after she could make out his face as the dust began to settle.

His eyes were closed, and a cut ran the length of his forehead, the blood beginning to bead and run down in small trails down towards the ground. The rest of his body was covered by the boards that had fallen after the initial break.

She called his name a few more times, before realizing that she would get no immediate response. Sara only paused long enough to ensure herself that the sounds she heard was that of Greg's steady breathing. Crawling back carefully, Sara reached her kit that rested near the door, pulling out her phone.

She held her breath as the phone rang, and it was picked up after the second ring. She wasted no time for the lady on the other end to greet her, and instead immediately starting requesting medical aid, explaining only briefly what had happened, making sure that the information had been transferred correctly before ending the call.

She was on the verge of calling Grissom when she heard a soft groan, one that was barely audible, but within the next second she was leaning back over the hole, flashlight in hand. She was thankful to see his eyes open slowly, blinking against the intrusive light.

"Greg," she called down to him, watching him closely. "Can you hear me?" He had closed his eyes again, so she wasn't sure if he was coherent as of the moment. She was pleased to get a weak response in return.

She let out a long sigh, smiling with relief. He sounded well enough, though the pain could be heard easily, laced within his voice. Still, if she was going to keep him calm, she needed to keep calm herself.

"Help's on the way Greg, just hang in there," she made sure that her voice was loud enough for him to hear.

He didn't say anything back at first, a stretch of silence filled the room, his eyes closed as he tried to control his heavy breathing. Then as Sara moved to break the silence, he finally spoke up.

"I…I think I can get up now," he whispered, his voice loud enough that Sara could just barely hear it.

Sara shook her head quickly, voicing her concern. "No Greg, don't move. Just…just lay there. I know it hurts, you've fallen into a basement or something. Just stay still, okay? If you landed wrong, you can really hurt yourself by trying to move. Help's going to be here soon."

Greg didn't respond after that, and she could hear his breathing lessen, becoming more and more strained. Panicked, Sara called his name several different times, hoping for a response and getting none in return, as the sounds of sirens filled the air.

**TBC**


	6. A Helping Hand

**Chapter Six: Helping Hand**

At first, all he knew was the pain. He wasn't aware of his surroundings, and he didn't know what had happened. But the ache that had worked its way through his body told him that it wasn't anything good.

It took a few moments for him to sort things out in his head. He was able to push back the pain long enough to clue into his surroundings. Someone was calling his name…Sara, it was Sara calling his name, yeah…that was her. He blinked a few times, squinting against the light that was shining down on him.

In the end he figured it was easier to just keep his eyes closed. He couldn't see anything anyways, and at the moment, it was hard to breath. There was so much dust in the air.

"Can you hear me?"

Sara's voice was loud, edgy even; Greg could tell she was on the verge of panicking. He muttered a weak response, not even sure if she heard him or not, but he wasn't going to try to talk any louder. Even that little bit hurt, plain and simple.

He laid there for a moment, trying to shake off the unwanted feeling, before calling out again. In his mind, Greg knew that trying to get up wasn't the smartest of ideas yet, but he wasn't thinking logically. All he could think about was the case; it was all he knew for certain at the present time. Laying her forever wasn't an option.

He must have drifted off, because next he felt a warm hand on his forehead, and he flinched as the fingers pressed into the cut that ran the length of his forehead. Blinking warily he glanced around, somewhat surprised to see several people moving around him.

The man right above him was dressed in white, and was wearing gloves. He was leaning over him now, talking to him. At first he couldn't make out what he was saying, but caught it the second time around.

"Tell us…name?"

"Greg," he breathed quietly, taking a few small breaths before talking again. "Greg Sanders."

The man above him nodded, raising his head up to look at the two others. "Can we get these boards off of him please?" He turned to look back down at him.

"Okay Mr. Sanders," his voice loud, a little to loud for Greg's taste, as it was doing nothing for his current headache, but he supposed it was something they were used to. Greg had tried to look to see what exactly he was pulling out of the bag he had set down just above his head, but to no avail.

He flinched again as the medic turned his attention back to the cut on his forehead, reaching down with one hand to feel his pulse. "Can you tell me how old you are?"

Greg swallowed as he thought the question over. This one wasn't as easy to answer as the first one had, proving that he still wasn't completely coherent. "Twenty-seven," he finally managed, after several minutes of thinking.

As the first medic worked on him, Greg noticed that the boards were slowly being lifted off him. They weren't heavy, so in everything it didn't make too much of a difference. "Can you tell me where you hurt?"

Greg blinked, sighing softly, still pulling in small fitful breaths. He wanted to laugh at the question, but he wasn't willing to try, afraid of how much it would hurt. "Everywhere?" he suggested, unable to stop the small chuckle from escaping.

The medic laughed as well, not entirely surprised by the question. "Okay, how about where you hurt the most?"

If it was possible, this question was even harder to answer than the last. His entire body felt as though it was on fire, but he wasn't sure if anything hurt more than the rest. Finally he decided it was his head that hurt the worst, simply due to the fact he couldn't think straight.

He voiced that concern to the medic as well, who in turn laughed harder, pulling back for a moment. "I think you're going to be just fine," he told him. "We're going to help you up to a sitting position now, make sure you can handle that first before we try and walk you out of here."

The medic waited a few more minutes while Greg tried to slow his breathing. He knew what it was as well; he remembered the feeling from when he Sara had fallen over the cliff into the river. He wouldn't be surprised if his old injuries hadn't completely healed yet.

The medic was in front of him then, lacing one hand around his arm, the other around his upper back. Another man repeated the gesture on his other side and on the count of three they eased in him to a sitting position.

Greg had to admit that even though the procedure hurt, he certainly felt a lot better sitting now. He was more aware of his surroundings, as well as the factor of pain, but it was a lot easier to breathe once sitting than it had been. They let him rest for a period of ten minutes before bringing him all the way to his feet. Walking out of there was slow and painful, Greg wincing with each and every step, grateful as the cool night air greeted him.

They sat him down in the grass in front of the house. Greg was surprised by all the action going on. Before it had only been him and Sara, as well as the officer who had remained outside. Now he could easily see Brass as well as Grissom, talking to the officer, and Sara not too far away, talking with Nick and Warrick. They all glanced his way as they sat him down, their expressions a cross between relief and worry.

The medics were still talking to him, but he barely heard what they said as they left his side. It didn't take long for the others to join him, all them slowly making their way over once assured that the medics were done working on him.

Sara, still shaken by the entire event, sat down next to him, fighting down the overwhelming urge to hug him in pure relief, but knowing that it would only serve to hurt him even more. The others just stood about him, unsure of what to say or do. Unable to stand the silence any longer, Greg gave everyone a reassuring grin.

"Hey guys," his voice was still quiet, his arms wrapped around his chest as he worked on balancing breathing and talking at the same time. "I feel so special; you all came down to check on me."

"Of course Greg," Catherine rolled her eyes. "What else would we do, celebrate?"

"I figured Nick more in likely would yeah," Greg taunted, looking up at him.

Nick shrugged, laughing. "I wanted to, but Catherine said I couldn't, she's a spoil sport," his gaze flicked over to Catherine as he imitated his best pouting face, unable to keep it on for very long.

"We were all worried about you," Sara stated next to him. "Well…I was more than worried, everyone said I was overreacting, and they were right."

"I'm okay," he winced as he coughed, shaking his head. "Okay, maybe not, but I'm getting there. I've certainly have had better times, but things could be worse."

Everyone nodded in quiet agreement, looking up as the medic made his way back over. "We're going to take Mr. Sanders to the hospital, have him looked over one final time, and more likely have him stay the night, just to make sure nothing else is going on that we can't see. Other than that, there's no reason why he shouldn't be able to go home in the morning."

Grissom nodded, talking for the first time, "Catherine, you want to follow him, give him a ride home if he needs one tonight?"

Catherine nodded without hesitation, already heading towards her own car as the medic helped Greg to his feet, slowly walking him towards the ambulance. Sara would have jumped at the first chance of going with him, but she knew that she other manners to attend to, mainly concerning Ecklie. Somehow, she felt as if it wasn't going to be very good either.

**TBC**


	7. Rash Actions

**Just a quick chapter here, wanted it to be longer but ran of out time and I wanted to get it up tonight, so you can expect the next part within a few days. **

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Rash Actions**

Grissom read the file over one more time, making sure that he was indeed reading the print correctly. He lifted his eyes just enough so that they glanced over the top of the form, his gaze settling on Conrad Ecklie.

Next to him, Sara sat, completely silent. Grissom knew that it was taking all her effort to keep calm; one simple look at her he knew that she was ready to blow. He himself was not happy with what Ecklie was presenting them. Still, he knew that for Sara's sake, as well as his own, he needed to keep calm, and try to find reasoning behind this…outrage.

"I'm not really understanding any of this," Grissom said skeptically, laying the form down on the desk.

"You're a man of science Grissom," Ecklie stated lightly, picking up the form in his own hands. "You collect the evidence, you analyze it. You follow where it leads. Now do that here."

Grissom was silent, his eyes never left Ecklie's gaze. The older man sighed, shaking his head. "I'm only doing what is best for the lab."

"You think that letting go one of our top criminalists is going to help us out?" Grissom phrased the question slowly.

"Sidle's record is impressive," Ecklie agreed, "But she is a danger to the lab as well."

"I am right here Conrad," Sara stated quietly, a silent fire burning behind her eyes. "Please address me as so. If you want to talk like I'm not here, then send me home."

Ecklie held his hands out, looking towards the ceiling. "That was wrong of me," he admitted, "I'll try to be better on my people skills."

Grissom held his hand out to Sara, silencing her next comment. The last thing he needed was for her to anger him any further. With any luck, he would be able to work her out of this mess.

"I'm not exactly following you. Sara carries one of the top records out of all the shifts."

"She also carries the highest number of incidents as well. This latest turn of events isn't helping to improve her image either."

Grissom's brow raised as he leaned back. "You're holding her accountable for something she had no control over? What happened at that house was an accident. The officers failed to clear the scene properly."

"I am aware of that," Ecklie nodded towards him. "I am also aware that this is the second 'accident' that has happened under Sara's charge within the last month. Not only that," he continued, breaking over Grissom's interruption. "Sara has demonstrated a growing practice of confronting suspects before we have accurate evidence to support it. She becomes emotionally involved with the victims, and that alone causes error. Error is something we cannot have."

"I'm asking you to reconsider," Grissom spoke up at the first chance. "Probation, suspension maybe. Look at your alternative options here before making a final decision."

"I already have," Ecklie stated. "As for the case, I'm having Catherine take the lead. Sanders' and Sidle's work has proven to be little more than efficient. The case was supposed to be closed two days ago. Both of you can go now, I have work to do."

Grissom followed Sara out the room, only after pausing, considering having a few words with Ecklie alone before realizing that the option wouldn't be the best. Throughout the entire meeting, Sara had been livid, only keeping herself at bay with worry over Greg. She was too sick to her stomach to yell and scream.

Now…now her head hung towards the floor, not even looking up as Grissom placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She was touched by his concern, and maybe, just maybe if she had been in a different mood, she would have been ecstatic.

"I'll talk with him once he blows off some steam," Grissom told her quietly, his hand still on her shoulder.

Sara shook her head, pulling away just enough that his hand fell free. "Don't waste your breath," she responded. "Ecklie is…well, you know, Ecklie. I'll be fine, there are plenty of other jobs, and it's not as if I'm going to disappear or anything. I'll still stop by, see everyone."

Grissom nodded sadly, not wanting to believe what was happening anymore than she was. At least Sara was facing the reality of it all. "I'm still going to see what I can do, Ecklie's out of line, I don't care what anyone else says."

She smiled sweetly at him, shaking her head after a moment. "You don't have to, but thanks anyways. I guess I'm headed home…I'll stop by the hospital, check in on Greg. See if he needs anything…"

Grissom nodded, "You do that, I'll give you a call when I know anything."

* * *

For the life of him, Greg Sanders was never going to take another taxi in his life. First off, the fare was far to over priced. Secondly, the driver had been everything but polite, the older man cursing at his slow movements, threatening to push him out of the cab if he didn't hurry it along. One would think that someone would be a little more considerate to someone just out of the hospital.

Yet the world seemed to surprise him everyday with something called 'human intelligence.' He supposed he could add impatience to that list as well.

The hospital hadn't kept him the whole night. Only till about three, when they gave him the go-ahead. By that time, Catherine had already been called away to work. When that had happened it had been assumed that he would be there until the morning time, and Catherine had promised to give him a ride home then.

Instead of waiting five hours for her to show up, Greg had figured to take a taxi. It had taken several tries to successfully wave one down, on the account he could barely move without any pain.

The doctors had said he was lucky, only suffering from severely bruised ribs. To Greg, severely was not a good word. It was a bad word, but when they said it could have been worse, Greg decided to settle on the bad, instead of on the worse. How much worse could it have been?

_"Spinal cord injuries, broken neck, busted limbs, internal bleeding, parallelization…_

Greg wasn't sure how long the list went on, but he definitely settle on bruised ribs. Once paying the uncouth driver for his so called, generous deed, Greg worked his way up the stairs slowly, wishing for one brief moment, that his apartment complex had working elevators. The last time he had used the elevators he had ended up stuck for nearly seven hours. That was an adventure he rather not repeat.

Since then, they had gone under repair, still waiting for the actual repair to take place. Grimacing with each carefully placed step, Greg fished the keys from his pocket, pushing inside with a sigh. It was good to be home, and all he wanted to do now was sleep.

He glanced down at the bag he held in his hands, dropping it off on the counter as he went by. Greg knew that he probably should take one of the recommended pills, knowing that it would help with the pain, but he wasn't really up to it. What he wanted now, all he wanted now, was his bed, and an endless amount of hours devoted entirely to rest.

**TBC…**


	8. Worries

**Sorry for the long wait in an update. I wanted to get this up much sooner, but if you had any idea how work has been this week, you'd understand why I haven't done anything. **

**Adding in the simple fact we are climbing into record breaking high temps, and our work building, (that is all concrete) has no air-conditioning. Normally we have fans, but our drying room fan is busted, so we've been using all our fans in order to keep our sample bottles dry. So we've been very, very hot, all week long. Hey, look on the bright side, it's only 90 in the shade :P**

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Worries**

He had tried to sleep. Collapsing on his bed, he hadn't even bothered with changing, or getting under the covers. Though it was too warm to get comfortable. That, and the pain in his chest didn't help at all either. After nearly an hour of laying there in the darkness, it was clear that sleep would not claim him.

Groaning as he sat up, Greg rested his head in his hands, using his fingers to massage his forehead. He would take some medicine; he decided, which meant he had to eat something first. He wasn't up to it; Greg knew already that he had nothing in his fridge, and he wasn't in the mood to cook anything. He could always order take-out, but then again, food didn't sound very appealing at the moment.

Pushing himself to his feet, Greg wandered out to the kitchen, grabbing the brown paper bag he had left on the tabletop. Reading the label he decided to take one anyways, even though he hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday morning.

Swallowing the pill dry he wandered over to the couch, easing himself down gently, his head coming to a rest on the small pillow. He rested one hand on his stomach, the other on his forehead, as he closed his eyes, willing the medication to kick in.

He was close to drifting off when there was a knock on his door. Raising his head, Greg groaned inwardly as he glanced towards the invading sound. "Who is it?" he called, wishing that whoever it was, that they would just go away.

"It's me Greg, can I come in?"

Sara's voice answered back, and Greg frowned, looking over his shoulder at the clock. What would Sara be doing here at this time? It was barely past four, and their shift didn't end till seven. "Coming," he muttered in response, already moving to sit up.

He had gotten halfway there when the door opened, Sara giving him a small smile as she pulled the spare key from the hole. "I just wanted to see how you were doing," she told him, shutting the door behind her.

Greg gave her half a smile, before heading back to the couch. He sat down slowly, ever aware that Sara was watching his every move. He motioned to the chair next to him, nodding. "Have a seat."

Sara moved in to the room further, but stayed standing, her gaze shifting from him to the floor. "I stopped by the hospital, but they said you had already left. I hope you don't mind me checking in on you."

Greg shook his head, laughing softly. "Not at all," he told her quietly. "Why are you here now? Shouldn't you be working?"

Sara shrugged, looking up at him for a brief moment. "No, I just have some extra time, that's all."

"Don't tell me you were suspended again," Greg teased her lightly, becoming more serious when the smile she gave him was only half-hearted. "You did?"

Sara shook her head, sitting down in the chair. "No, no I didn't get suspended," she reassured him. "There wasn't very much to do in the lab, so I left early. Wanted to see how you were doing, and I'm kind of tired."

Greg nodded, folding his hands as he leaned forward. "That's good to hear. I don't know when I'll be back in, I feel bad for abandoning you like this."

"I'd rather have you get better," she told him. "You really scared me there, for a little while that is."

"I'm sorry," Greg shrugged his shoulders, looking down at his hands. "If the house had been built a little better…" he shrugged, glancing back up at her.

"Warrick and Nick took the case over, since you're out, and it turned out that the basement was being used as a meth lab."

"Motive," Greg said quietly, nodding. "They were new homeowners, they must have stumbled across it accidentally, and someone didn't want to be found out."

Sara nodded, leaning back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. "The basement was dug out after the house was built. That's why when it was refurbished, the flooring wasn't changed. Previous homeowner had been jail on a drunk driving charge, came to collect his business, move it to a new place. What he didn't count on was that the house was already sold. He was moving his stuff out of there when the pair came home, found out what he was doing. Case is solved."

"That should go on my record," Greg muttered, earning a questioning gaze from Sara. He held his hands out, smiling up at her. "If I didn't fall then we would have never found that basement," he pointed out.

Sara laughed, shaking her head at him. "You explain that one to Ecklie, see how he takes it." She became quiet, glancing up at the clock.

"I need to get going," she said softly, turning back to him. "You take it easy, get your rest."

Greg nodded, watching her stand. "Yes mother," he kidded lightly, earning another smile from her.

She stopped by the door, her hand resting on the doorknob as she turned back to him. "I'll see you around," she told him quietly.

Greg watched her leave before leaning back, letting loose a sigh. He had a strange feeling that Sara wasn't telling him something. Not that she needed to tell him everything, let alone anything. Still it seemed as though she was purposely trying to avoid telling him something. He shrugged the matter off, already laying back down, the medication was definitely working now, he was feeling groggy and lightheaded. It was then he began to second-guess his choice of taking the medicine on an empty stomach.

**TBC…**


	9. Turning Around

**Chapter Nine: Turning Around**

The water wasn't exactly cold, but at the same time, it wasn't all that warm. The cool liquid felt like a blessing to his skin, a relief from the blistering rays of the vibrant sun. He bent over, allowing the water to flow over his arms, clear up to around his elbows. Letting out a sigh, he held his breath as he brought a handful of the clear water against his face, relishing in the splendid feeling.

With his eyes still closed, the water running down his face, dripping back into the lake, Greg turned to call over his shoulder, hoping to provoke Sara to join him. She had refused once, something about not wanting to wear a bikini. Greg really didn't care at this point, he only wanted her to experience the wonder feeling, wanted her get out of the sweltering sun before she ended up burned.

When she did not answer back, Greg opened his eyes, glancing around. He was confused by the sudden lack in noise, and was even more surprised to find that he was the only one there.

The desert stretched for miles in every direction, the sun playing off the dry land for as far as he could see. Once again he called her name, his tense voice echoing back just as equal. He could feel the water moving around him, a shrill sound splitting the air as the lake suddenly dried up, leaving him trapped in the mud.

Greg groaned, opening his eyes as the sharp ringing noise once again filled the air around him. Blinking a few times, his eyes adjusted to the darkness of his apartment as he tried to shake off the strange dream. When the phone rang again, Greg realized that it wouldn't answer itself, and he let out another groan of disapproval as he reached behind him, fumbling for the small device.

"Hello?" he mumbled quietly, pressing the phone against his ear. He kept his eyes close, due to the simple fact that the room wouldn't stay still when he had them open.

"Greg, its Grissom," there was a small pause. "How are you feeling?"

Greg bit his lip to keep from laughing at his question. How did he feel? Like he was hung-over, that's how, except he had missed the entire part of being drunk. "Sore," he muttered instead, his head already nodding as he fought off a yawn.

He heard Grissom sigh on the other end, the man obviously hesitant to continue. "Do you think you can work at all? I'm completely backlogged, and I can't handle this by myself, you're the last one I have at the moment."

Greg opened his eyes slowly, focusing on the ceiling above him that was slowly beginning to swirl. After a moment, he squeezed them shut again, replaying Grissom's words in his head. "Backlogged?" he queried, "But Sara said there wasn't anything left, that's why she left early…"

"Ecklie fired Sara," Grissom stated quickly, his voice grim.

Greg sat up quickly, ignoring the pain in his chest as he held onto the cushions to support himself. "Fired?" he stuttered, making sure that he had indeed heard right. "When, how…why?" Greg blurted out quickly, only to be cut off by Grissom.

"I'll tell you when you get here," Grissom said, "I'll give you an hour."

Greg nodded, already sliding of the couch into a standing position. "I'll be there in fifteen."

* * *

Letting out a weary sigh, Greg closed his eyes, listening for a moment to his own breathing. In and out…in and out. He had come into work nearly sixteen hours ago, and still there was no close end in sight. Grissom hadn't been kidding when he said they were backlogged. The night shift had received four news shifts within seven hours; two homicides, one apparent suicide, and a hit and run.

Blinking, Greg opened his eyes, sweeping the beam of the flashlight over the undercarriage of the car he was under. It was a match to their hit and run from earlier, and Grissom had appointed him the task of searching for any trace. He had been working on the car for nearly two hours now, and had come up with nothing. Even that was absolute.

A light sheen of sweat had covered his body, prompting Greg to reach up with a gloved hand, wiping clean his forehead. It was far beyond hot under the vehicle now, and the jumpsuit wasn't exactly helping. Neither was the pain he felt throughout his body. He hadn't taken any more medication, he had gotten sick enough off of the last one, and the last thing he needed was to give Grissom any more worry and concern.

He lifted his head as much as he dared when he heard someone enter the garage, and he could see the tops of Grissom's shoes as the elder man stopped near the car, kneeling down.

"How's it coming?"

Greg shook his head, muttering that he had not, his voice muffled through the mask he had on. Frowning, he used his legs to push the flat cart out from under the car, reaching up with one hand to pull the mask free, resting his other arm across his chest, holding the flashlight that was still on.

"No scratches, no breaks, no blood, no fibers…no dirt even. I've never seen the undercarriage of a vehicle this clean before."

Grissom nodded, sighing. "Looks like he washed everything," he mentioned quietly.

"Still, there would be scratches, at the very least. A car doesn't plow into a bicycle and come out unscathed. This car is virtually untouched."

"Why wash it so well then?" Grissom wondered, prompting Greg to shrug in answer. He watched as the younger man yawned tiredly, his eyes closing as he did so.

"Let's call it for today," Grissom told him, "Go home; get some rest. This week will be busy."

"I can stay a few more," Greg protested, not quite ready to back down, despite how wonderful the offer sounded.

He was saved from his protest when Grissom shook his head in response. "Not today, you've already worked long enough. Though there is something I want you to do before you go."

Greg nodded when he paused, waiting for him to continue.

"I want you to talk with Ecklie, convince him that letting Sara go was a bad idea."

Greg frowned up at the older man, both hands resting on his chest now. "If Ecklie didn't listen to you, and he didn't listen to Sara, what makes you think he's going to listen to me?"

"You won't know unless you try, besides that, Ecklie doesn't very much care for me or Sara."

"And you assume Ecklie likes me any better?" Greg wondered dully.

"I'm just asking you to try," Grissom prodded him, this time provoking a nod from Greg.

"Good," Grissom said, standing back up, "Hopefully things go better with you."

He had gotten to the door when Greg called out to him, slowing his stride. Grissom turned back to find Greg still laying flat on the cart, the younger man watching him as he held up his hand. "Help?"

Grissom nearly laughed as he walked back over. Reaching out, he grasped Greg's hand in his, helping the young CSI to his feet, making sure he was up before letting go. Greg muttered his thanks, letting out a pained sigh as he followed Grissom out the door.

* * *

He felt like a lost puppy. Yet it wasn't his fault that Ecklie wouldn't stay still, walking from one end of the lab to the other. Greg followed without complaint, trying to talk with the elder man, feeling all the while that it was at a loss.

Ecklie finally turned on him, frowning. "Is there something you wanted to say Sanders?"

Letting out a sigh, Greg nodded. It was about time as well. This had been going on for nearly fifteen minutes now. "I was just wondering who you were hiring as a replacement."

Ecklie lifted an eyebrow, staring at him intently. "Replacement?"

Greg nodded, swallowing as he shuffled his feet. It had taken him nearly an hour to come up with some idea as to what he was going to say to Ecklie. "Well, with Sara gone, and Sofia on personal leave for the next month and a half, Grissom and I can't keep up with all the work. The only way we're going to get anything done is by working overtime, so the obvious answer is to hire someone knew, training and all of that. I was just curious to who it was. I mean, that's a nice deal for whoever it is, seventy-five of everything is paid by the lab. Training, supplies, schooling…"

Ecklie cut him off there, holding his hand up. "What do you mean three quarters of it is paid by us?"

Greg shrugged, his hands resting in his pockets. "Well, it is stated that when someone is fired, the replacement, if training is needed, will have to only pay one quarter of expenses."

Ecklie laughed softly, crossing his arms. "Where did you hear that Sara was even fired?"

Greg shrugged again, "The entire lab's talking about it. Word travels fast, you know."

"Well then," Ecklie stated softly, "when did you start listening to gossip? As far as I'm concerned, Sara still has a job here."

He turned to leave, only to turn back around again, "Oh, and you can tell her that I'm still watching her every move, another mistake like that and she will be gone."

Greg watched him go, biting his lip to keep from laughing. It was well beyond him how that had all happened, but it had. Smiling, he turned on his heel, already pulling his phone free from his pocket.

* * *

Sara drove slowly down the street, keeping most of her concentration on the road ahead. She was well beyond the limit considering alcohol; she had almost been caught once, it was sheer dumb luck that she had gotten out of it as well. Then again, if she did get caught, what could they do to her that hadn't already been done? Were they going to fire her?

She laughed bitterly at the thought, shaking her head. It was too late for that. Instead of heading home, Sara had gone out, had found a bar. Now she couldn't even remember how many drinks she had taken. Obviously it hadn't been enough, if she was still able to think logically.

Pulling up in front of her apartment complex, she let out a sigh as the figure walked towards her. Clambering out her car, she brushed his arm away, closing the door.

"What are you doing here?" Sara wondered, pushing towards her door.

"You didn't come home from work," Michael responded, following her. His short hair was slicked back with gel, an odd imitation of his wardrobe. Sara paid little heed to him as she walked up the stairs, fumbling for the keys.

"Aren't you going to talk to me?" Michael wondered, coming to stop behind her.

"I'm not much in the mood," Sara told him quietly. "I've had a bad day."

"Why are you avoiding me?"

Letting out a sigh, Sara turned to him, motioning for him to go inside. "We need to talk about this," she said softly.

Closing the door behind her, Sara set her stuff on the counter as Michael made his way into the room, eyeing her belongings as he did so. Reaching over he picked up the empty take-out carton, frowning. "This isn't healthy eating," he scolded her lightly; "This is why you should come home after work, so that you can have time to cook something better."

Sara shook her head, sorting through her mail. "I don't cook," she answered, "not enough time or motivation."

"I can teach you," he stated, dropping the carton into the trash can.

"Look, Michael," Sara let out a sigh as she stepped towards him. "This has to stop."

He looked up at her, frowning in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"This," Sara continued, watching him. "All of this…I can't have you following me around all the time, and calling me every couple of hours, and going through my stuff. It's too uncomfortable; I'm not ready for this."

Michael took a step back then, looking away. "You're breaking up with me?" he questioned slowly.

Before Sara could even nod, he turned back to her, slamming his hand on the counter. The sound reverberated through the small apartment, causing Sara to jump. "You can't do this too me!" he yelled, swiping his arm along the countertop, knocking both the phone and the small lamp off, as well as various papers.

The lamp hit the floor, shattering as it did so, the phone swung wildly, suspended by the cord. Sara took a few steps back, pressing against the wall behind her as Michael came towards her.

"Back off!" Sara warned him, her eyes darting for a way around him. She could defend herself if it was necessary; that was if she was in a coherent state.

"Why are you doing this?" Michael screamed at her again, raising his hands in frustration. In one seething second, he turned back on her, and Sara had hardly time to blink before his fist connected with her jaw.

**TBC**


	10. Here For You

**Chapter 10:Here For You**

Sara leaned over carefully, sweeping the glass shards into a small pile with her hands. The colored glass shimmered under the dim light as she moved around them, balancing on her heels. She reached up with the back of her hand, wiping away of the stray tears that worked their way down her cheek.

The single punch had quickly worked its way into a full brawl. It had led from her kitchen, to her front room several feet away. Michael may have been stronger than she was, but that did not exclude her from getting her own timely blows in. It hadn't taken very long to get him out the door after that.

She could hear him, as she rested against the locked door, pounding on the wood, begging for her to let him back in, nearly stuttering as he apologized. Sara wouldn't fall for it; she had collapsed on the floor in a heap, crying as she waited for him to leave.

She considered calling the police, considered filing charges. Yet, she decided against it. If she called, the police would come, they would question her. Once they saw she was drunk, they would either write it off as a false report, and if they actually believed her, they would find out that she had been driving drunk. She wanted neither result hanging over her head.

So instead, she had waited until he left, moving then, only to clean up the mess. She felt sick, and it was hard to move, or do anything at the moment. Her hands were shaking, and her head hurt a great deal, whether it was derived from drinking, or the fight, or both, she wasn't sure.

A knock on her door alerted her that she wasn't alone. She stared up at the entrance, swallowing as she dropped the glass back on the floor, resting her hands on her knees. There was another knock, but she made no move to answer it, the fear slowly building in her.

Was it Michael, coming back to finish what he had started? Or had a neighbor called in all the noise? It was unlikely, everyone that she knew should had been working, but it was always possible.

"Sara?"

She closed her eyes, sighing heavily. Greg was the last person she expected, well…maybe not the last, but certainly wasn't someone she expected to come by. What would she say to him? What would he do?

"Sara, are you in there? It's Greg, let me in, I need to talk with you."

Sara stayed where she was, holding her breath. Maybe if she didn't say anything, he would go away.

When he knocked again, Sara shook her head, her eyes still closed. She couldn't see him, not like this.

"Go away," she croaked, hoping he would take the given hint.

"Sara please," Greg's persistence did not surprise her, and she almost found herself laughing despite the situation.

"I'm sleeping," she told him, biting her tongue in frustration as she did so. Was that the best she could come up with?

"Sara," Greg's voice had changed tone now, and she could hear a small thump against the door as Greg turned the handle. "How can you be talking to me if you're sleeping?"

"I can talk in my sleep," Sara shot back, raising her head, "there's no law against it."

"Sara, open the door, or I'm going to break it down," Greg threatened lightly from the other side.

Sara laughed softly, shaking her head. Greg never did give up, did he? "You do that and you have to buy me a new door."

"Fine by me," Greg responded, "But if I hurt myself, you're paying the bills," he joked, kicking at the bottom of the door.

"Okay, okay," Sara called out to him, pushing herself to her feet. "I'm coming; don't get any ideas Einstein."

She stepped over the broken glass carefully, pausing for a moment to wonder if she could hide everything, but knowing that it would take to long. Reaching up, she unlatched the first lock, pulling the door open.

It was the first time Sara had ever known Greg to be so quiet. A look of confusion quickly followed by concern crossed his face as she closed the door.

"What happened…" he started, but Sara quickly cut him off, shaking her head.

"Nothing," she said quietly. "It's nothing, don't worry about it."

"Sara," Greg muttered, his eyebrows furrowing. "You're bleeding."

"I am?" she reached up with one of her hands, wincing as it came in contact with the cut. Greg reached out for her other hand, turning it palm side up. Several small lacerations ran the length of the palm, small fragments of glass caught inside the incisions.

Greg looked back up to her worriedly, his expression narrowing as he studied her face. "You're drunk," he commented lightly, surprised to her laugh in response.

"Was," she muttered dryly, "more like hung-over now. I feel sick," she whined softly, pulling her hand free. She walked past him, kneeling down to finish cleaning the glass up, but Greg stopped her, pulling her back to her feet.

"You're still drunk," he told her, walking her over to the couch and sitting her down. Carefully he brushed aside her hair that was clinging to the cut on her forehead, tucking the strands behind her left ear.

"I'm going to get a washcloth, and some bandages, get you cleaned up. Just stay here, okay?"

Sara nodded dully, bringing her legs up next to her as she watched him walk down the hall, and into the bathroom. As promised, he returned only a few moments later, her first aid kit in his hands.

He sat opposite of her, setting the kit on the end table, and unlatching the clips. Nothing was said between them as Greg first cleaned the cut on her forehead, wiping away the dried blood before bandaging it.

Sara winced, the wound tender despite Greg's careful handling. Her hand proved to be more difficult, and painful, as Greg worked to pull the small shards from her hand. She flinched with nearly every one; Greg muttering a short apology as well.

"So," he said quietly, still concentrating on the glass embedded into her skin. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Sara bit her lip as Greg pulled out another piece, shaking her head. "Would you believe me if I told you I fell?"

Greg raised an eyebrow, setting the tweezers down as he reached for the damp washcloth. "Not really."

Sara flinched as he dabbed the wound, cleaning the rest of the glass and dirt from the opening before dabbing on some antibacterial cream, followed shortly by a bandage. He closed her single hand in both his hands, looking up at her.

Sara avoided his gaze, closing her eyes as he reached up to run the back of his hand along her face, running along her bruises lightly. He held onto her hand still, his touches so soft and gentle that it was shocking. She knew that she shouldn't be afraid; Greg would never hurt her, at least not physically. Still she was tense against his touch, and sensing this he pulled away, calling her name quietly.

She opened her eyes, tears resting in them as she looked up at him. "I've had a bad day," she whispered, not even bothering to dry her tears this time.

Greg nodded; his expression grim. "I can see that," he told her, reaching up and pulling her into an embrace.

She allowed herself to be pull in, her body tense against hers as he rubbed her back. He didn't say anything as she cried against him, only held her firmly, running his hand in small circles on her back. Slowly she relaxed against him, her sobs turning into hiccups as she closed her eyes.

Greg reached up, running a hand through her hair. "Feel better?" he asked her.

Dully she nodded against his shoulder, hiccupping as she did so. Surprisingly, she felt quite a bit better, the sickly feeling had worn off, and her head had cleared some. But most of all, the fear and the worry had disappeared.

"I have some news that might cheer you up," Greg offered, resting his head on top of hers. "I got your job back."

Sara pulled away far enough to look up at him, her face blotchy, standing in contrast to all the bruises. "You heard about that?"

Greg nodded, shifting on the couch. "Yeah, Grissom told me about it all."

"You got called in?" she stated shaking her head. "I'm so sorry…you shouldn't be working, you should be resting," she muttered quickly, surprised when Greg placed his fingers against her lips."

He smiled down at her confused expression, pulling her into another hug. "You can come back tomorrow, if you feel up to it."

She nodded, resting against him. "How?"

Greg shrugged, "It was easy, once I mentioned all the money it would take, Ecklie reconsidered quickly. He's a sensible man."

Sara laughed, closing her eyes, "I'd never thought I'd hear you say that."

"I would like to know what happened," he prodded, leaning back against the pillow, pulling Sara with him.

She shook her head, brushing him off lightly. "I just fell," she whispered. "That's all…"

Greg let out a sigh as he brushed her hair off of her face, watching as she fell asleep, her soft breaths landing on his chin. "You can tell me you know," he told her quietly, closing his own eyes. "I'm right here for you."

**TBC**


	11. Secrets Untold

**Okay, so I have to apologize, this is a short chapter, and it's taken me so long to get up. Hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner. Many thanks to Jenny for betaing this for me, and giving me some ideas. This chappie is for you girl!**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Secrets Untold**

"Here," Greg pressed a cup into her hands as he sat down next to her, "drink this."

Sara was absentmindedly rubbing her forehead with one hand as she brought the cup to her lips, making a face as the warm liquid ran down her throat. "Coffee? This early in the morning?" she wondered, bringing the cup back down in her lap.

"Well," Greg stated, raising his eyes up to see her, "most people drink their coffee in the morning."

"Yeah, at like six or seven. Not at three," Sara complained, rubbing her forehead once more.

"Just drink it," Greg told her, shaking his head as he leaned back against the couch. "It'll make you feel better," he insisted.

"I feel fine," Sara snapped lightly, letting out a sigh as she continued to rub her head. "I don't see why you couldn't let me sleep in longer," she yawned.

"Because," Greg said simply, watching her still. "We need to talk."

Sara shook her head, taking another sip of the coffee, making another face. "I already told you, there isn't anything to talk about."

Greg frowned, but he didn't say anything. Sara had discussed the subject lightly, or in other words, not at all. It was an accident, she had told him, but Greg had a hard time believing it.

"Then why are you so scared?" Greg asked softly.

This comment caused her to raise her head sharply, staring at him. "I am not scared," she insisted, glaring at him.

"So I suppose you hitting me this morning was just you stretching your muscles?"

Sara let out a sigh, looking at the ground. "I already told you that I was sorry, besides, you startled me. It was your own fault."

"All I did was say your name," Greg reminded her, rubbing the bruise on his cheek. "Next time I'll make sure I'm on the other side of the room."

Sara lifted her head, looking up at him with a small smile. "I really am sorry, it's not like I did it on purpose."

Greg let it go with a shrug, still watching her, as though he was studying her every move. In some sense it made her feel uneasy, and at the same time it made her feel surprisingly safe. She ran a finger over the rim of her mug, becoming lost in her own thoughts.

Greg had stayed with her through the night; he had cleaned up her apartment while she had slept. The only remnants of the fight left were her own wounds, which she hadn't even taken the time to check in a mirror. She knew how bad she looked, it couldn't be any better than she felt.

Still, there was a worse problem, and that was work. She was thankful that Greg had gotten her job back for her, but she was afraid to go back to work in her condition. It meant more questions, more demands to an answer. Greg was persistent, but she knew that he wouldn't push her.

Grissom would know that something was up, but he, like Greg, would wait for her to talk. Nick would be a little fiercer, while Warrick would show his concern, yet keep his distance at the same time. Catherine was a different matter all together. It was she that Sara was most afraid of at finding out. The women seemed to have a sixth sense at these sort of things.

"So," Greg's prodding brought her back to the present time. Sara lifted her head up, staring blatantly at him.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Sara let out a sigh, taking this moment to take another drink of her coffee. Somehow she felt as though she was being punished, having to drink this stuff. "I fell," she commented softly.

"Sara," Greg said, sitting up, "trust me, even I'm not that much of a klutz."

"How would you know," Sara muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Greg's voice changed, becoming lower. "Sara, you are my friend. I've known you long enough to know when you're lying."

"It doesn't matter," Sara snapped at him, "It's my business, let me take care of it."

"Someone is hurting you," Greg stated, not shaken by Sara's sudden mood swing. "I want to know who."

"I don't want to talk about it," she huffed lightly in warning.

"Is it that boyfriend of yours? What's his name, Mark? I thought you were smarter than that."

"Don't even start," Sara told him quietly, "you have no right. You have no idea what I've been going through."

"I would if you just told me," Greg interrupted her. "I want to know, I want to be able to help you."

"You can't," she argued, raising her voice. "So just let it go."

"I'm not willing to do that," Greg said softly. "Is he the one hurting you?"

"You're jealous," Sara stated, causing Greg to frown up at her.

"Excuse me?"

"Get out of here," Sara told him quietly, shaking her head.

"Sara," Greg let out a sigh, standing up.

"Just go," she repeated, her voice straining. "Get out of here; I want you out of here."

"Don't do this," Greg pleaded lightly, surprised as Sara jumped off the couch, knocking her cup on the floor. The remaining liquid spilled out onto the rug below as the cup rolled under the couch.

Sara didn't even seem to notice as she walked quickly down the hall, disappearing into her room. The door slammed shut a moment later, echoing through the room. Greg shook his head, sighing as he moved to his knees to retrieve the fallen cup.

He sat there for a moment, holding it in his hands as he looked down the hall to where Sara had gone. Even from here, he could hear her soft sobs. It made him feel worse, knowing that Sara was hurting, and that he was unable to help. There was little he could do, but to wait for her to open up.

**TBC**


	12. Promises

Sara walked through the halls of the lab, ignoring the looks of concern and wonder from the others. They would glance, and gawk, but say nothing, keeping their opinions to themselves. It was how she preferred it. At the same time, she couldn't blame any of them; she knew how bad she looked. Even through all her makeup, the bruising was still evident.

Still, she would rather not answer any questions. Lying to Greg had been painful enough, she didn't need any more guilt resting on her shoulders. All in all, she felt like an idiot. Greg had been nothing but understanding, staying with her through the night, keeping her safe. Her thanks to him had been little more than crude.

She had locked herself in her room, trying to muffle her sobs, knowing that Greg was just outside her door. He had spent a better part of an hour trying to convince her to come out. As time went by, the room grew quiet, and Sara had fallen into a restless sleep. By the time she had awoken, Greg was gone.

It wasn't much of a surprise; after all, she had been the one to tell him to leave. She had looked into the mirror for the first time that night. Her bottom lip was swollen, as well as her left eye, encircled in a deep bruise. Sara spent several hours, doing her best to conceal the damage, to no avail.

Rounding the corner she came to a stop. The door to the garage was hanging open, and she could see him from where she stood. Greg was working steadily, walking around the front of a small car, his flashlight shining off the blue paint. Most people, when watching him, wouldn't suspect a thing, but Sara could see easily enough that Greg was hurting.

He was good at hiding his pain, but Sara had experience with that; he was moving in the same manner as before, after the fall into the river several months back. Sara tried to remember what the doctor had said. At least a week of rest. Sara knew the only reason Greg was working at the present time was because of her. If she hadn't been fired, then Greg wouldn't have been called in.

Stepping inside the room, Sara waited a moment for her presence to be known, but Greg paid little heed to the newcomer. Clearing her throat, Sara spoke up for the first time. "You really should be home resting," she chided him lightly, giving him a smile as he looked up quickly.

Greg didn't return her smile, nor did he say anything. Instead he bent his head back down, kneeling down alongside the vehicle, running a gloved hand over the exterior.

She wasn't disturbed by his silence, walking a little further as she continued to talk. "You uh, you left your jacket at my place," she told him quietly, "I put it in your locker, in case you were looking for it."

Silence was her only response, but still determined, she continued. "I wanted to thank you for everything, it was really sweet of you." Another pause, another beat of silence. Sara sighed, shaking her head. The infamous silent treatment.

"Okay Greg," she started again. There was no beating around the bush this time. "I was stupid, I made a mistake. I told you once that I had a bad night, I was just so stressed that I was saying those things without thinking. I didn't mean any of it, you have to believe me."

Greg said nothing still, only opening the passenger side of the vehicle, proceeding to climb in. Grumbling, Sara marched over towards the car, using her sleeve to open the driver's side door, looking in on Greg.

"What do I have to do to make it up to you?" she asked, her voice tense and irritated.

This statement had finally caught his attention, and he looked up at her from where he was leaning over the seat, the beam of his flashlight hitting her in the face. "You want to make it up? Grab a flashlight and give me a hand."

It was short, demanding, and a bit crude, all the while completely off topic. Still, Greg had talked to her. It wasn't a very big step, but one nonetheless. Sara nodded shortly, already moving to pull on a pair of gloves, digging through the cluttered toolbox to find a spare flashlight.

Climbing in next to Greg, Sara clicked on the light, noting that it needed a new pair of batteries, as the beam itself was dim. "What are we looking for?" she asked skeptically.

"Any trace evidence," Greg confirmed. His voice was still withdrawn, something that would go for a while, she supposed. They worked in silence for the next several minutes, neither one ready to break that silence that lingered over them.

Glancing over at him, Sara wondered if she should try to say anything or not. Greg still seemed upset with her, and he had every right to. She shook off the uneasy feeling, turning her attention back what was in front of her.

"What mistake did you make?"

Greg's question caught her off guard, his voice much softer than it had been before. Sara wanted to tell him the truth, but at the same time was too afraid and ashamed to do so. What would Greg think of her then? Other than being a liar, it would prove to him that she was irresponsible, and that her manner of choice was also poor.

Instead she just shook her head. "Just forget it, okay?"

She hadn't expected it to work, so she was surprised when Greg didn't repeat the question, or prod at her in anyway as he did before. Letting out a sigh, she switched off the flashlight, balancing her arms on her knees. "We're not going to find anything in here," she stated glumly.

"Sara?" Greg said her name with a heavy sigh, earning a concerned look from her.

"What is it?" she wondered, shifting her body so that she was looking straight at him.

"I am your friend, right?"

Her look of concern turned to bewilderment as he continued. "I mean, I don't bother you, or drive you crazy or anything like that, do I?"

"No Greg," she shook her head, her mouth hanging open slightly. "Why would you think something like that?"

"Then why don't you trust me?"

The question twisted her stomach into knots, and with his questioning gaze he looked so small, and young. Sara tried to swallow, but it felt as though her throat had closed off on her.

"It's not that Greg," she managed to croak out, looking away from him. Silence stretched between the two of them; she could feel Greg's eyes on her still, and she let out a heavy sigh.

"I had some problems," she told him, "I'll admit that. But they're all taken care of."

"It was him," Greg prodded, "wasn't it?"

"Let's not talk about this now," Sara stated, trying to deter him from the conversation.

"When?"

Sara shook her head, sighing softly. She knew that Greg wasn't going to give up trying. And how could she resist? Especially with that look of his? "During break," she told him quietly, "We'll head over to my place, get something to eat."

**TBC**


	13. Painful Truths

Sara stood just behind him, glancing over his shoulder as he flipped through the pages slowly. He came to a pause on one, glancing from the one on the right to the photo on the left, his eyebrows furrowing as he leaned in closer.

"No match," Sara told him gently. She hadn't meant to, but it had slipped out before she had been able to stop herself. After all, Greg wasn't really going to learn if she kept on telling him.

Greg didn't seem to care, as he straightened up, turning the pages before. "I don't see why we can't just run them through the system," he complained lightly, coming to a stop on another page.

"Wheel base is too wide," Sara corrected him once more, pointing to the first photo. "See here, look at the tread patterns. You need to learn to be able to do this without the computer. Besides, they're working on them today."

"I've never done this before," Greg told her, looking over his shoulder.

"It's like matching finger prints, it just takes practice."

Greg shook his head, his attention turning back to the book that was in front of him. They had been doing this now for over an hour, and he hadn't even come close to finding a match. Sara sounded as though she was becoming irritated with him as well. Every time he stopped on something that looked similar, she would correct him before he could really even look.

He heard her sigh, shifting behind him again. That was what did it. Letting out his own sigh, he closed the book, taking care to mark his page. She met his steady gaze with a questioning look of her own.

"Let's take break," Greg suggested. "We both need it."

She gave him a small half smile. "I was wondering when you were getting to that. Let me get my stuff from the locker room, and we'll meet at my place."

Greg nodded, watching her leave before taking off himself. He knew that this was hard on her, but he wasn't about to tell her to forget. There was nagging feeling inside him that he wasn't going to like what he was going to hear, but he couldn't very well walk out on Sara either. She would tell him, after all, she had promised.

Sometimes he wondered if he sounded too childish. Was it fair to make her tell her secrets by holding something such as this against her? Greg let out a smile, moving towards the parking lot. If it worked, then it was fair by all means, childish or not.

* * *

The room was empty; it was what she was hoping for. With a heavy sigh Sara let her head drop into her hands. What was she getting herself in to? Why had she promised to tell him everything? At first it had seemed like a good idea, but now, as she truly began to think about it, she felt sick to her stomach.

Briskly she lifted her head, moving her arms around her, concealing herself in a tight embrace. Why was she so afraid? She had no reason to be, but the fear only kept growing.

She didn't have to go home; after all, it would be just as easy to drive south towards the border. She laughed softly at the idea, trying to imagine what life would be like in Mexico. She would have to learn to speak Spanish; it wouldn't be that hard, would it? After all, she already knew some Spanish. Nunca alimente un chili de la paloma, roughly translated, never feed a pigeon chili.

Sara shook her head, smiling; Greg had taught her that a few months ago. The sudden thought of Greg caused her stomach to twist into knots. She could imagine him, sitting and waiting for her to show up. What would happen when she didn't? He'd call her on her phone, then Grissom, when he got no answer. The entire team would be looking for her. She would have to change her name, wear a disguise. All the time, Greg would blame himself…

She shook her head quickly, halting the statement. No, she couldn't; couldn't do that to Greg. She couldn't hurt him like that, not after everything he had done for her. It wouldn't be right.

"You okay Sara?"

She looked up quickly, meeting Warrick's concerned gaze. "Yeah," she stammered, standing up quickly. She hadn't even gotten into her locker, so caught up in her thoughts she had forgotten what she came to do.

Quickly she twirled the combination, opening the door swiftly. She was surprised when it caught, causing her try it again. Warrick was still watching her, a frown on his face. "You might want to take the lock off," he suggested.

Sara could feel herself blush, as she reached shakily for the lock, pulling it free from its slot. "Sorry, I'm sort of distracted," she muttered, pulling free her purse.

Warrick only nodded, watching as she pressed past him quickly. He paused for a moment, wondering if he maybe should follow, but he shook the thought off, moving to open his own locker.

* * *

She could still see the mess in her mind, as they entered her place. Even though it had already been cleaned, she could still see the glass on the floor, could still see the blood that had covered the counters, slowly dripping down the sides until they rested in small pools underneath the overhang.

Sara grimaced inwardly as Greg squeezed past her, the memories flooding her mind. If only she could banish them, make them disappear. The door closed behind her with a thud, causing her to jump. Greg met her gaze, watching her closely with a worried look.

Sara turned away, sighing. She hadn't even seen him go by again. The next thing she knew was that she was seated on one end of the couch, holding a glass of water in her tightly clenched hands, and Greg sitting in front of her, watching her worriedly.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Greg prodded again. He must have asked it once, yet she hadn't heard him. Nor did she feel him move her clear over here. Quickly, she nodded vigorously, taking a drink of water as if to prove her point.

"Fine," she managed to sputter, her breath stolen after downing the entire glass. She barely felt him pull the cup away, barely felt his fingers dance against her skin as he placed his hands on her face.

She closed her eyes, a tingling feeling racing across her shoulders, down her spine. He leaned in closer to her, his warm breath across her face. She was beyond nervous, yet at the same time, she was ecstatic. Sadly enough, she had dreamed of this happening, ever since she had kissed him the first time a few months back. She had wished for it to last longer.

Yet it never came, she was left sitting there, his hands resting on her face, so gently against her bruises, she had never felt this safe before, knowing he was there. It was a welcoming feeling, and she wanted it to continue, but for some reason, it had stopped there.

"Sara, open your eyes," Greg's voice was soft, yet demanding, prompting her to follow his command.

Greg seemed to be mere inches away from her, staring at her intently. His gaze was weighed down with worry, as he watched her, frowning. Slowly he pulled away, letting go of her. Sara let out a heavy breath, the one she had been saving for the kiss that had never come.

"I think you should stay here," Greg told her quietly. "You don't feel warm, but you're not very focused. I think you might have a slight concussion."

"I'm fine," she stammered quickly. "I was just thinking, that's all."

"I'd feel better if you stayed here," Greg prompted her, taking a seat next to her.

"You know what happened, don't you?" Sara asked instead, changing the discussion.

Greg paused for a moment before nodding. "I have my own ideas, but I'd like to hear it from you."

Leaning back, Sara lifted her gaze just enough to catch Greg's eyes. "It was him," she whispered. She didn't need to explain anymore, the soft comment was enough for him to understand, still she continued, knowing that she owed that much at least to him.

"At first, everything was fine. He was nice, and he seemed to be interested in what I did, he gave me my space, and time to do my job. He understood that it was hard…I thought everything was going fine."

"What happened," Greg asked quietly. He had leaned back against the other armrest, on arm hanging down towards the floor, the other across his chest. His knees were bent, his feet coming to rest right in front of her.

"I don't know really," Sara admitted softly. It was like he changed, he became a different person. He always wanted to know where I was; he came to my place every night, called me while I was trying to work. He started going through my stuff, trying to tell me how to live…he was starting to scare me."

Greg nodded, but didn't say anything, allowing Sara to take a moment to readjust herself. "So I told him that I didn't want to see him anymore."

"I gather he didn't like that," Greg stated, indicating towards her bruises.

Sara nodded briskly, reaching up to wipe away a tear. She felt Greg shift, and she turned to meet him as he rested a hand on her shoulder, bringing the other up to catch another fallen tear. "Did you file a report?" he asked softly.

Sara let out a sigh, turning away from him. This was what she was afraid of. She knew in her heart that Greg would have asked. There was no way around it, and she wasn't about to lie to Greg. It would be too easy for him to catch her in it, after all, the entire team had a good standing with the police. All Greg had to do would be to call one of them up, and ask for the information. When they had none, Greg would know that she had lied. She wasn't willing to break his trust over something as easy as that.

The pause was enough for Greg however, as she heard him let out a sigh. "Sara, you should have filed a report."

"It's too late now," she told him bluntly.

"No it's not, you still can. I'll go with you…"

"No," Sara cut him off, shaking her head. "No, just forget it."

"He hurt you Sara," Greg told her sternly. "This is the very thing you fight against, the one thing that really makes you mad. Now you're just going to let him get away?"

Sara turned on him quickly, so much in fact that Greg had pulled away. "It's not that easy," she argued, her voice rising. "Don't you understand? I just can't do it."

She had expected him to say something, so it was a surprise when he remained silent. Sara glanced over at him, and it was clear he was avoiding her gaze, maybe even sulking a little.

"I'm sorry Greg," she told him quietly. "I didn't mean to yell."

"It's okay, your choice after all. I have no right getting on you about it."

Sara let out a sigh, dropping her gaze. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just not as easy as you think it is. I wish it was, but there just so much you don't understand."

"Then make me," Greg pleaded with her lightly. "Spell it out for me, so that I can't miss it."

Sara smiled sadly, looking back towards him. "I wish I had that ability, I really do." Her voice trailed off, her next comment nearly slipping past him. "I didn't even really like him."

"Then why did you go out with him?" Greg wondered.

Sara met his gaze, frowning. "What?"

"Why did you go out with him if you didn't like him?" Greg repeated the question.

Sara shook her head turning away. The knot in her stomach had returned, and even as much as she wanted to pretend that she didn't hear his question, she knew that she could not.

"I don't know…" she sighed softly, closing her eyes. "I guess I was afraid."

"You were afraid of him, so you went out with him?" Greg questioned slowly, frowning in confusion.

Sara had to laugh, but she muffled it quickly after the look Greg had given her. The silence was eerie, and it seemed to be suffocating her. How was she supposed to explain all of this?

"Sara?" Greg's voice brought her back to reality, the worry he held for her once again evident.

"I wasn't afraid of him," Sara muttered quietly. "I was afraid…"

"Of what?" Greg prompted, moving closer to her once again. When she didn't continue he prompted again. "Come on, you can tell me."

Sara swallowed, turning away. She was starting to shake now, the thoughts consuming her mind.

Her voice was soft as she continued, almost ghost like, her answer seemingly echoing throughout her small apartment. "I was afraid…of you."

**TBC…**


	14. Changes

**Sorry for the wait, I ran into a mild writer's block, but I think I'm over it now. Not too long, but the next part shouldn't be too long in being up. I'll do my best! Don't forget to review!**

**And this Chapter goes out to Jenny, I know you're having a rough time girl. Hopefully this cheers you up some :P**

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**Chapter 14: Changes**

Greg propped his head up in one hand, letting out a sigh before taking another sip of his drink. No, make that a gulp. Frowning he held the glass to one side, watching the remaining colored liquid run together, sloshing in the corner. Had he finished another one already?

He placed the cup down again, running two fingers over the rim, another sigh escaping his lips. His mind was so full at the moment it was a wonder how he was even able to function. Greg hadn't remained behind to hear Sara out, both shocked and hurt at her words. What had he done to make her so afraid of him?

Certainly he had done something, but what? He had never hit her, and anything remotely degrading he had said out loud had all been in jest. Surely she knew that, didn't she? Digging in his pocket Greg pulled free his cell phone, holding it in both hands. 17 missed calls…it wasn't a surprise. He had it set to vibrate; he had felt the phone go off each and every time, but had ignored every one. He was even less surprised to find the number was Sara's.

Shaking his head, Greg let the phone slip back in his pocket. Now wasn't the time to talk; at the moment he didn't feel like talking at any point in the future. How could he, after all that had happened in the few short moments? He was longing to know why Sara had said what she said, wanted an excuse. But that was what she would give him, wasn't it? Another excuse, another lie?

"You want another?" the bartender asked as he walked by. Greg didn't meet his gaze, but nodded, staring intently at the counter.

"No, that's okay, he's had enough."

Greg raised his head as Catherine sat down next to him. She didn't look at him, only proceeded to order herself a soda, paying in advanced. Clearing his throat Greg turned his attention back down at the table. Another drink sounded splendid at the moment, but he wasn't willing to argue with Catherine on that matter. Come to think of it, he never was willing to argue with her period.

"What are you doing here?" Greg wondered dimly, watching as his empty glass was taken.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing," Catherine said cheekily, bringing the glass to her lips. After a moment heheard her set it back down on the counter. "Schedule says you're working tonight, and last time I checked the lab didn't hand out two hour breaks."

Greg shook his head slowly. "I'm not going back," he muttered quietly, rubbing his forehead. He was starting to get a headache, and the conversation wasn't helping. Somehow Catherine had a knack for bothering him when he wanted to be left alone the most.

"So you just decided that by yourself? You didn't call anyone, didn't tell anyone. You just left?"

Greg looked up at her again, irritated on how she could seem so peppy at a time like this. "What, are you checking up on me?"

"Yes, and no," she explained, prodding a straw throughout her drink, pushing the cubes of ice down to the bottom before letting the rise once again. "Had an interview with a witness, saw you over here. Grissom's already called to see if I knew where you were. Thought I see why you're avoiding everyone."

"I'd rather not talk about it," Greg said glumly, crossing his arms on the counter before laying his head down.

"Ah…" Catherine nodded her head in understanding. "One of those things huh?"

Greg didn't answer, only tried to block out all the noise that was only increasing his headache. The tactic didn't last long, because Catherine was already talking again.

"Exactly how were you planning on getting home?" she wondered.

"Car's outside," he muttered dimly, his head still on the counter.

He could hear her scoff, and it wasn't hard to imagine her shaking her head at him. "You can't honestly be thinking of driving home. Not after drinking anyways. You'll end up dead, or even worse, you'll kill someone else."

"Thanks," he muttered dryly, shaking his head. "I'll be fine though, I've only had a few anyways. I'm not even above the limit."

"Well in that case just sit tight, I'll get Brass on the phone and we'll get someone to give you a breathalyzer test. That way, when you blow the limit, we can save you the trouble of a ticket."

She was already pulling her phone out when Greg grabbed her arm, shaking his head. "What is it that you want?"

"I want to know what's going on. You're not even acting like yourself. You barely drink Greg, and at the moment, you're completely drunk."

"I am not," he scoffed, rubbing his forehead again. "I've only had…" he came to a pause, trying to recall how many he had actually had.

"You see," Catherine pointed out, finishing the last of her soda. "You can't even remember."

"That doesn't prove anything," Greg argued.

"How about this," Catherine suggested. "I'll give you a ride home, and tell Grissom you took the rest of the night off because you're not feeling well. After you get through what I'm guessing will be a massive hangover when you wake up, you can come back in. I won't say a word to anyone else."

"I told you, I'm not going back," Greg stated, "ever."

She only shook her head, sighing. "You can't make that decision now."

Greg only raised an eyebrow, staring at her. "Why not?"

"Because you're drunk," she stated simply.

"Will you stop saying that?" Greg complained. "I am not drunk."

It was as if Catherine had barely heard him. "You have very little idea what you're talking about. I highly doubt you have intentions to throw five years of training down the drain just like that."

Greg let out a sigh, taking in this new information. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. He reached out for his glass, groaning as he realized it was no longer there. He brought his hand back, rubbing his forehead again. "Okay, so what are my choices?"

Catherine leaned against the counter, waving the bar tender off as he came by again. "You can let me give you a ride home, and no one will know about this except for the two of us. Or you can leave on your own, in which case I'll have Brass waiting for you at your door."

Greg closed his eyes, shaking his head. "You wouldn't really call me in, would you?"

"You want to try me?" she wondered lightly.

Greg shook his head again, muttering under his breath.

"Smart choice," Catherine commented with a short laugh. It was then her phone went off, buried somewhere deep in the small purse she carried with her. It didn't take long for her to fish it out, and Greg barely listened as she took the call.

His mind was racing again. After he had left Sara's place, he had no intentions of going back to lab. The simple fact that he would have to face her sooner or later worried him. Their last meeting hadn't exactly been the best one, and he didn't want to hear any more reasons.

At the same time he hadn't thought about actually leaving. In all reality, he couldn't do it. He had nowhere to go, nothing to build on. It was here that he belonged, whether or not he would admit it. In the short five years of being here in Vegas he had come to know everyone better than his own family. It was his coworkers he would call first, not his family, if he landed in trouble.

Next to him Catherine ended the call, letting out a sigh as she dropped it back in her purse. Greg met her worried gaze with a blatant stare. It only took him a second to figure out something was wrong, eventhrough his hazy mind. "What is it?"

Catherine slid the strap of her purse over her shoulder, turning away from him. "There's been a change of plans. Grissom needs to see you now."

Greg groaned quietly, looking up at her. "Now?"

Catherine only nodded, motioning for him to follow. Greg bit his lip, pushing himself to his feet, not even protesting when Catherine linked her arm in his in order to help him walk straight. He hadn't done anything wrong, so to say. However he was unable to ignore the icy pit that was growing in thepit of his stomach.

**TBC…**

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**LuvinNickyStokes**

Lol, there is a reason, don't worry. It won't come out for a few more chapters though. But everything will be explained in full.

**SleepyHead22**

Don't feel bad, I've done it as well, as has my friend. We shared lockers in band, and we had so much trouble, lol. That is where I got the idea from. It is funny, no matter how embarrassing it is. I suppose it happens to everyone at least once sometime in life, right?

**Sugar Pill**

I came up with that idea after about three different rewrites. This chapter took even longer, blame it on mild writer's block. So glad it's over with. Hopefully you will as well :D

**Jenny**

-Doges rotten fruit-

Okay, maybe not rotten, but it sounds better than dodging fresh fruit. Besides, that's just a waste of food, you should really find something else to throw…I did not just say that, did I? No more ideas for you…

**And thanks to everyone else who reviewed! I love reading your thoughts. I always say that, don't I? Lol, I'll beg if I have to! Review please!**


	15. The Trouble with Assumption

**Another late chapter, so no R2R.**** I know you've been waiting for this for a while, and I apologize for the wait, real life can get hectic sometimes. Just a note to let you know I wasn't having writer's block, this story is still happening the same way I had originally planned, just the same concept of not having enough time or motivation to write.**

**Thanks again to all my reviewers that are still reading my stuff after all this time, you guys are the greatest.**

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**Chapter Fifteen: The Trouble with Assumption **

She hadn't meant to say it, not in that manner at least. She had ran the scenario in her head over and over again, searching for an alternate ending. If Greg hadn't pressured her, if she had only talked to him in the first place, if she had gotten help the first time.

Sara closed her eyes as she came to a stop, her relentless pacing over for a brief moment of time since he had left. The night hadn't gotten any better either. Greg had left quickly, the look on his face being a cross between pain and confusion, and now he wasn't answering his phone.

To make matters worse Michael had called twice. Both times he had been stammering apologizes, his broken words echoing through her apartment. Not too long after a pair of cops had shown up at her door, querying about her state. She had assured them that she was fine, but by the looks on their faces, they didn't believe her. Still, she managed to have them leave, and though she knew she should be worrying about more important matters, she couldn't get the look on Greg's face out of her mind.

After all this time as well, she thought she was protecting him, and now it seemed as though she had done more harm than good. Pressing the button once again she pressed the phone against her ear.

After the third ring his voice mail picked up, and she let out a frustrated sigh. "Greg," she started, coming to a stop in order to regain her voice. "Greg, please, give me a call. I have to talk to you…"

She considered going on, repeating what she had already said in the last twenty some calls. At this point she was close to calling the lab, hoping that maybe he had gone back to work. But there was no need to worry everyone else, right?

"Just call me, okay?" she repeated into the phone, before ending the call. Sure, she could explain it all, leave it on his voice mail. He may listen to it, but in order for him to understand it, she needed to explain it to him…in person.

If he would even allow it, that was. Greg was just as stubborn as she was, it was, as Catherine called it, a perfect match. She hadn't believed her then, but as the years passed, she began to see what she had meant.

Sara sat down on the edge of her couch, her hands clasped in front of her. After all, Greg was a reasonable person, he wouldn't do anything…drastic, would he? Sara nearly laughed at the idea, shaking her head. Why was she even thinking something like that? Then again, he did seem pretty upset…

Sara opened her cell phone, highlighting his number once again. Three long rings, then more silence. She closed her eyes, groaning in slight frustration. Of course, that didn't mean anything, yet at the same time it could mean everything.

Not even bothering to leave a message, Sara grabbed her purse off the counter as she walked by, closing the door behind her.

* * *

Grissom rolled his eyes as he replaced the books back on the shelf. "Catherine," he stated quietly, "I don't care if Greg's drunk, I don't care that he was even drinking on company time. He's supposed to be on medical leave, so if he wants to spend that time getting drunk, that's up to him. That's not what I need to talk to him about."

Catherine looked up at him, settling down on the edge of his desk. "Then you wouldn't mind me being in here, would you? If it's nothing serious, then I can stay. Greg's not in the best of conditions right now, he needs the support he can get."

He turned to face her, crossing his arms, one hand still holding a single book. "Catherine, if it wasn't personal, then I would talk to him out in the hallway. This is something we both need to go over, alone."

"Does it have to be done tonight?" she wondered, absentmindedly flipping through the open book on his desk.

"Catherine," Grissom's voice was stern this time, as he pointed to the open door. "Please, the sooner we start, the sooner we can be over with this."

He turned back around, focusing his attention on cleaning his area, all the while listening for one to leave, and the other to enter. He half expected Catherine to argue, to point out other options. It was surprise to him when she did actually leave without so much as another word.

A few prolonged minutes passed by before Greg had shuffled in, pausing just short of the entrance. Without turning around Grissom prompted him to close the door, and take a seat. Shelving his last book, Grissom turned to face him for the first time, somewhat taken aback by his appearance.

Although he was certain Greg drank on occasion, he had never seen him drunk, not like this at least. It was clear he was somewhat sober, no doubt in his mind that Catherine had slipped him some coffee on the ride over, a sensible explanation to why a ten minute drive had somehow stretched into a full hour.

Greg wasn't even meeting his gaze as sat down, and for the first time, Grissom found himself unable to say anything. A part of him seriously considered doing this tomorrow, when he was feeling better. Yet he knew that wasn't a likely option, in Greg's case the sooner they cleared things up, the better.

"How are you feeling?"

It was a stupid question, one that deserved an equally stupid answer. Grissom wasn't even certain why he had asked it in the first place, he knew Greg wasn't seeking out pity, and Grissom wasn't the first person who would give it either.

Greg shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the top of the desk. Grissom wasn't sure if his belated response was due to his inability to think clearly, or just plain nervousness. "I've had better days," he said quietly.

Letting out a breath of air, Grissom removed his glasses, leaning against the desk. It was best to get this over with quickly.

"Where were you last night?"

Greg blinked as he looked up, frowning. "Last night…I was here, or do you not remember?"

"After you left Greg," Grissom returned his frown. Drunk or not Greg was still quite himself, that was if you excluded the depressing look that covered his face.

"After I left…" Greg paused for a moment, clearing his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I went by Sara's place, let her know she got her job back, stayed there for a while, went home to take a shower, came back to work. Why?"

"What time did you get there?"

Greg was frowning all the while Grissom was taking down notes. The icy pit he had earlier had vanished, only to return now. "I don't know for sure," he admitted, "Fifteen minutes after I left here would be my best guess. Why, what's wrong?"

"We received a complaint of a fight that apparently took place, it turned out to be Sara's place. The woman that called it in is a resident that's next door to her place. Minutes after the fight happened there was an unidentified male attempting to get back inside, threatening to break the door down. That match has come back to you."

There was a stunned silence, but it didn't surprise Grissom. He felt uneasy presenting this to Greg, but he had little choice. At the time, it still had not been entered into records. The police he had sent over earlier tonight had already called back, informing him that Sara had denied anything taking place, but voicing their own concerns as well. He needed to hear straight out what had happened, from his own view point.

"I was over there," Greg admitted, "But nothing happened. I mean, her place was a mess before…" Greg came to a stop then, growing quiet.

"Before what?" Grissom prompted him lightly, looking up at him.

Greg shook his head slowly. "I can't say."

Grissom raised an eyebrow, putting his pen down. "Why is that?"

"I promised Sara I wouldn't say anything."

"That's not going to help anything," Grissom stated with a tired sigh. "You need to tell me in your own words what happened that night."

"I can't," Greg repeated, slumping further into his chair, "a promise is a promise."

"Then I can't help you," Grissom told him softly.

Greg's eyes flicked up momentarily, before dropping. Grissom shifted in his chair, folding his hands together. "You do realize that by not talking, I can't clear you from the list of suspects."

Letting out a heavy sigh Greg nodded slowly. "I know," he replied, his voice barely audible.

"You know how serious this is?" Grissom continued, making sure that he had Greg's full attention. "Not only could you be facing possible jail time, but that if any evidence shows that you were involved in any of this, you will no longer have a job, whether or not you were at fault."

Greg nodded again, but this time he did not say anything. His depressed look only seemed to become more so as he looked back up at him.

"Okay," Grissom returned his nod. "You're on probation until we get things sorted out. After that, I don't know."

Greg stood slowly, his hands shoved into his pockets as he left the room. Pausing by the doorway he turned back to Grissom, one hand resting on the handle. "If it helps, I didn't do anything."

"I know Greg," Grissom's voice was confident as he looked up towards the younger man. "But that's not going to convince the judges."

He wanted to say more, wanted to comfort him somehow, but that wasn't his place. He was never good at finding the right thing to say when someone needed it the most.

Talking with Greg hadn't gone as well as he hoped, and in turn had only worried him more. There was something he wasn't willing to tell, and if Greg wasn't willing to talk, it would be even harder trying to get it out of Sara.

At any rate, it wouldn't be any easier on Greg. He had already dug himself a deeper hole than Grissom thought possible. Now came the task of trying to get him out.

**TBC**


	16. Letting Go

**Another update, it's not as long as I wanted it too be. There'll probably be one or two more chapters (I've know I've said this somewhere before, but I'm pretty sure this time)**

**Thanks for sticking in here with me, and being incredibly patient. You guys really are the best**

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**Chapter Sixteen: Letting Go**

Greg had closed the door behind him, one hand still grasping the handle as he came to a stop. Out of all the things he expected, seeing her wasn't one of them. Catherine was leaning against the wall, Sara pacing back and forth in front of her. The moment the door had shut again, the pair looked up to meet his gaze.

Greg shook his head, already heading down the hall, ignoring Sara's calls. He couldn't talk to her now…wouldn't talk to her now. His emotions were running high, and he was afraid that he would say something that he would end up regretting.

She would have caught up with him easily enough. That was if Catherine hadn't grabbed her arm as she walked past. She called his name one last time before he disappeared around the corner, her worry turning back into frustration as she turned to face the other woman.

"Back off," Sara warned, already moving to pull herself free.

"Let him go Sara," Catherine replied, ignoring her previous comment. Sara hadn't said much when they talked on the phone, and had talked even less when she had arrived. Catherine wasn't certain, but she could sense something had happened between the pair.

Greg would barely look at her, none the less talk with her. On the other hand Sara looked as though she was trying to decide between killing the younger man and smothering him in a heartfelt hug. Catherine had never been one to read emotions or people very well. That was Grissom's specialty.

Her worry only increased at the time Greg had spent in his office, and now Grissom was waiting for Sara behind closed doors. He wouldn't tell her what was going on, wouldn't say a word. It left her mind to wander greatly, landing in several places she wished it had not.

"I have to talk to him," Sara shook her off, "I have to make sure he's okay."

"He'll be fine," Catherine reassured her, pointing towards the office. "Grissom needs you right now though."

"Greg needs me," Sara protested, standing her ground.

"I'll check in on Greg, go talk with Grissom, get it over with."

She watched as the younger woman looked down the hall, her eyes trailing the path Greg had taken earlier. Slowly she turned and looked at the door that stood only a few feet in front of her, letting out a sigh. "I really hate you, you know that?"

"I'll keep it in mind," Catherine replied dryly, nodding towards the door. She waited until she was certain the other was inside before taking off down the hall. She found him in the first room she looked in, not surprised to find him in the locker room, but somewhat concerned to see the state he was in.

He was sitting quietly, staring down at his hands that were in his lap, unmoving, his uneven breaths filling the room. He didn't bother to look up as she sat down next to him, moving her legs over so that she straddled the bench. "You want to talk about it?"

Greg's only response was a sigh as he stretched his legs out. Catherine nodded in silent understanding, knowing at the same time she'd be able to get it out of Sara easier than she would be able to get it out of Greg. With Sara, all you had to do was make her mad and she tell everything under her own will. She had yet to learn Greg's weakness, but she let it slide for now. Reaching up, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, relieved when he didn't pull away.

"I'll give you a ride home."

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"You can't be serious," Sara detested angrily, pushing herself up from the chair. Grissom only shook his head as she began pacing the room. At this rate she wouldn't need to watch what she ate, she was burning everything off faster than she could consume it. "You can't launch an investigation into this. Greg was over at my place, his prints are going to be everywhere, and he didn't do anything."

"Why won't he tell me what happened then?" Grissom prodded, rubbing his forehead. His headache was starting to come back.

"Because there's nothing to tell. I fell in kitchen, I knocked a few things over, Greg helped me clean up. That's all that happened."

"Greg told me that he promised you that he wouldn't say anything to anyone. If nothing happened, why would he be trying to hide everything so well?"

Sara came to a stop, crossing her arms as she drew in a deep breath. "Look, I had a few drinks, I was a bit tipsy. That's how I fell in the first place. I made Greg promise because I didn't want anyone to think of me as a drunk."

"You're lying," Grissom pointed out quietly, "I can see it in your eyes, besides, you remember everything too well to have been that drunk."

"So what if I am?" Sara shot back, turning to look at him.

"It's just that Greg's going to be the most likely to take the fall for this."

"You can't," she interrupted quickly, "I'm not pressing charges."

"It doesn't matter," Grissom pointed out to her. "Two of my employees are involved in a domestic violence charge. It has to be resolved."

"It was an accident," Sara repeated slowly. "Hopefully you will remember that when discussing it with Ecklie."

It was a crass comment, she knew it the moment the words left her mouth, but she did not regret them. Nor did she wait for an invitation to leave, simply grabbing her stuff as she headed out the door.

* * *

"You should talk to her."

Greg nodded solemnly as Catherine walked up to the door with him. "I know," he stated, pulling his keys free of his pocket. Getting his car back in the morning would be a pain; it was still sitting in the parking lot of the bar he had visited earlier. "I just don't know what to say."

"It'll come to you. The two of you are too close to be fighting like this."

"It's not like we're dating," Greg reminded her, surprised as she laughed.

"Sometimes I wonder," Catherine gave him a brief smile. "Give Sara a chance to explain herself. I'm sure whatever she said to you couldn't have been that bad. She seems awfully sorry."

It was Greg's turn to laugh softly, prompting a curious look from Catherine. "Sorry," he waved her off, still smiling. "I just can't imagine you saying 'awfully'. You're not that type of person."

Catherine nodded slowly, a look of amusement crossing her face. "What kind of person am I then?"

Greg's smile flattened, as he shook his head. "We're getting off this topic."

She nodded, unwilling to push him any further. "I need to get back to the lab now, you take it easy tonight. If you need anything…"

"You're just a call away," Greg cut her off, his head bobbing as he mimicked her. He grinned once he finished, meeting her amused gaze. "Thanks…for everything."

"It's not a problem," she reassured him, already heading back down the walkway, giving him one last wave before he disappeared inside. He hadn't told her everything, but at the same time he had said enough. She had a better idea of what was going on between the two, and little doubts in her mind that issue would linger too much longer.

Fights like these were common, more so between the men back at the lab. She had her own verbal scruffs as well, and times had been rocky more than once. But with her experience it was better to offer support than try and fix things yourself. Interference was a risky business, she had learned well enough to steer clear of such ideas. Besides, what was the worst that could happen?

**TBC**


	17. A Clean Start

**Chapter Seventeen: A Clean Start**

"It doesn't matter Greg," Sara told through a quiet breath. "Whatever he wants to hear, you tell him. He's going to compare our stories…you remember what I told you?"

The young man let out a sigh, lowering his head as he pulled off his jacket. He was in front of his open locker, reaching inside to hang up the garment. "You called me, at three in the morning, drag me out of bed and clear across town into work, so that I could lie to our supervisor?"

She made a face, huffing, "Do I need to remind you that you start shift in just a few hours?"

"Not when I'm on administrative leave Sara," Greg reminded her brusquely, closing the locker now that he was down to only a t-shirt.

"You won't be after you talk to Grissom."

"Sara," Greg turned to her, facing her for the real first time since he had left her place. "You've been feeding me nothing but lies this entire time, and now you want me to do the same."

"I know," she nodded, denying it anymore was useless. "And I promise, once we're through with shift, I'll give you a full explanation, the truth this time. But until then, I got you into this mess, and I'm going to get you out of it."

"And what will happen to you?" Greg questioned, taking a seat on the bench. Sara sat next to him, giving a small shrug.

"I'm not sure…it can't be any worse than what I've already been through."

"You could lose your job," Greg reminded her, "If I tell him…"

Sara nodded briskly, "I know, but I rather it be me than you."

"Fine," Greg said quietly, "I'll talk to him, but I'm going to tell him only what I know," he added sternly. "I'm not going to lie, for your sake or mine."

She nodded, not saying anything as he left the room. After all, what could she expect? At least he was speaking to her, a step she was uncertain if she would ever achieve. Catherine wouldn't talk to her, at least not what she and Greg had talked about the night before.

Running a hand through her hair she let out a rough sigh, pushing herself to her feet. With nothing else to do, she may as well busy herself with work…at least until Greg finished talking with Grissom.

* * *

It took several long minutes for Greg to track the man down. He wasn't in his office, and as far as he knew Grissom hadn't been called to a scene. A quick scan by the garage and break room also indicated he was in neither spot. Greg was about to do another walk of the perimeter, hoping that maybe he had returned back to his office, slipping by him unnoticed. That was when he spotted the scientist in the layout room, folders spread clear across the table.

For half a moment, Greg tried to reason, to reconsider what he was doing. After all, by technical standards, he wasn't even supposed to be down at the lab, being on administrative leave. But the reason he was here was to clear himself from a possible list of suspects. The sooner the better, so waiting wasn't the best of ideas; still, it sounded pretty good to him.

Finally mustering up the courage he lifted his hand, rapping three short times on the open door, only his head hanging in the room. Greg wasn't sure if his supervisor could be anymore surprised, but Grissom didn't say anything, only glanced oddly before turning back around to his work.

Without an invitation or rebuke, Greg wasn't sure which was the best idea, going in or staying out. Maybe it would be better, to head back home, and wait until Brass called him in for the interview. Greg could just as easily tell them then and their, but then the question would remain on why he waited so long. Then again, this wasn't the best place to talk about the incident either.

He ventured in slowly, ready to head out at moments notice if that seemed necessary, but to his relief Grissom didn't reject his appearance, but nor did he welcome it. Greg cleared his throat cautiously, coming to a stop just behind him. "Sara uh…talked to me; she said it would probably be the best idea if I told you what happened."

"That would seem so," Grissom stated with a nod. His glasses were pulled down to the tip of his nose, as he moved the papers carefully. "Can you multi-task?"

Greg frowned at the question, but gave a quick shrug shortly after. "I guess so…why?"

"These are suspects from the last ten years, possible guys in connection with the Boulvine Murder. Computer system's on the fritz and it won't be up for several days at the earliest."

Greg nodded, moving closer the table as he reached out for the first file. "So what are we looking for?"

"Nothing at the moment," Grissom stated shortly, "Just start putting them in alphabetical order, keeping the years together. It'll make it easier when Sofia and I start going through them."

He was already moving, thankful for the distraction, but it didn't last long; Grissom was already inquiring him on what he wanted to talk about. Greg cleared his throat again, as he glanced through the names on the files in front of him.

"That night I went to Sara's, she had a few drinks…" he grew silent at the look Grissom gave him, but quickly regained his words. "More than a few drinks; I know she didn't go straight home after work that night, which was why I was worried. She was upset about everything…"

"This is going somewhere?" Grissom cut in, studying the young man.

"Sorry," Greg apologized briefly. "She wouldn't let me in at first, she told me that she didn't want to talk, and I kind of pressed her."

"You threatened to break in?"

"I wouldn't really do that," Greg told him, "Sara knew that as well; in fact she told me that she didn't mind, as long as I paid for a new door."

"How do you explain her bruises? The cuts as well? You can't say you didn't notice; the bruising patterns are too far along for them to just have happened. And the neighbors calling in to report a fight…yelling, screaming, things falling over, being thrown."

"I can't explain that," Greg told him, "All I know that was when Sara finally let me in, the place was a mess, and so was she. I cleaned her up, stayed with her until she fell asleep. I straightened her place up, and then I went to my own place."

"You tampered with a possible crime scene?" Grissom asked, incredulous.

"It was hardly a crime scene," Greg argued, stacking another folder on top of a small stack. "Besides, Sara had most of it cleaned up by the time I arrived. I just finished."

Grissom nodded, but remained quiet. His story seemed authentic, very possible, yet something still seemed as though it was missing. However, his own gut told him that Greg was telling the truth, he knew the both of them well enough to judge them differently. Convincing him wasn't the problem; it was Ecklie, and everyone else he had to worry about.

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" Grissom wondered.

"Because, Sara didn't want me to say anything…"

"About…?"

"About her drinking…Grissom, she was over the limit when she drove home. She didn't have anything when I was over…she was afraid that if Ecklie heard she was driving over the limit again he'd fire her…especially with her being on such thin ice already. So she made me promise I'd keep quiet about it…"

"That's very noble of you Greg, but it only hurts everyone worse in the end. Sara has a problem, and she knows it," Grissom told him gently, "She's working on setting things right, and I can tell you now that she's probably driven drunk more than we know. For the most part she's reasonable, but like the rest of us, she makes mistakes. It's not fair for you, or anyone else to cover those mistakes for her. No matter what the cost."

"As a friend," Greg argued quietly, not lifting his gaze to meet his.

"It's even asking a lot for a friend…" Grissom reminded him. He let out a sigh, shaking his head. "I'll let Ecklie know, and we'll go from their."

"Grissom," Greg took in a breath. "If you tell Ecklie, he will fire her. And after everything you put me through to get her back on…it all seems kind of a waste."

"Who said anything about telling him about that?" Grissom wondered lightly, "All I was going to tell him was that the case was dropped."

Greg smiled, "Thanks," he nodded, stacking the last folder on his end. "I suppose I should get to work now…"

"We could certainly use the help," Grissom commented as the young man left. Maybe he had been too easy, but he knew one thing for certain. Ecklie would be pleased. Even though Ecklie enjoyed domineering his employees, he knew when to draw the line.

Trouble among the workers often meant trouble with the lab, and hassle from those who were even higher than Ecklie. If something went wrong, all of it would come back and drop on his shoulders. Grissom knew it would put him at ease once he reported it, but made no move to hurry. After all, he could let him worry a little longer.

**TBC**


	18. A Sudden Turn

**Well…it has been a while since this was update. A long while. But I'm attempting to finish it, hopefully I still have some of you faithful readers around. Let me know you are still reading if you are, no point in finishing it if no is reading, after all.**

**Hope you enjoy! (And yes, there will be more frequent updates if ppl are still reading)**

**No beta for this, so all mistakes are mine. Kudos to Kegel for helping me to start writing this again.**

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**Chapter 18: A Sudden Turn**

He hadn't worked a full shift. Despite the backup in the lab Grissom had sent him home early. For once in his life, Greg hadn't the will or the strength to argue back. He was exhausted…no, that was putting it lightly. On the inside he felt completely empty, as though something inside of him would stop working without a moments notice.

It had only been a handful of days since he had taken the fall that had left him injured, and the ache still flared painfully if he moved to sudden or forcefully at once. As the hours went by, it was becoming more and more apparent that he was not doing well. That was the main reason why Grissom had sent him home.

Then there was the other reason. Sara…that in itself explained a lot. Greg was not sure what was going on with her anymore. Half of what she said was a lie, the other half…Greg couldn't even be sure if it was the truth. She claimed to be afraid of him, for what reason Greg could only fathom for it still baffled him. She would turn from screaming and yelling at him, to wanting to help him and keep him safe. It was a dizzying charade and he was becoming sick of it very quickly.

Still, he did not know whether to blame her for her actions, or accuse his own for allowing himself to become involved in something so deep and complicated. Sara needed help, yet she was the type of person who tended to refuse it when she needed it the most. And how could he help her when he only knew half of what was going on?

Greg pressed his head into his hands, silently willing the pain to die down. He felt slightly sick to his stomach, it was a result of both stress and the lack of eating. His body had not been on a normal schedule for a while now, and it was beginning to take its toll. Another moment passed, and he finally felt well enough to continue. Slowly he pulled on his jacket, pulling out his car keys as he closed his locker.

"You headed out already?"

Greg nodded, glancing at the Texan who had just walked in. There was a hint of compassion and understanding in the man's eyes as he nodded back. "Hang around for a moment, and I'll go with you? I'll be on break and we can stop somewhere, pick up some food, what do you say?"

"I don't know," Greg confessed quietly. He was hungry enough to eat, but he was also exhausted, and he wasn't sure how his company would fair at the moment. "Maybe some other time?"

Nick nodded, "If you're sure. I can drive you home as well."

It was a tempting offer, but Greg shook his head. He didn't need the entire lab offering him rides home, especially with the price of gas. "I'll be okay."

"Call…"

"If I need anything," he cut Nick off with a quiet laugh. Greg had a feeling he would be the sole reason of a costly phone bill as well. But it was comforting too, knowing that you had friends that wanted to look after you. At times Greg found in cumbersome, feeling as though he was burden to everyone else.

Lately it seemed that he and Sara had been doing nothing but causing trouble; Sara being fired, his suspension…and both getting back on shift with little effort mostly due in part to Grissom's work. He would have to remember to thank the man later, when this entire mess was all sorted out.

Even though it was in early hours of the morning, the air was still quite warm, forcing Greg to unzip his jacket as he made his way to the car. Though he would have been more comfortable with it off, the prospect of having to shrug out of it caused him to wince. Getting dressed and undressed caused the most pain with his ribs bruised the way they were. He would deal with it now, and crank the A/C on for the drive home. It was a strangely funny concept, but he would laugh later, perhaps when he felt better.

As tired as he was Greg believed that he had been hearing things at first. The echo of the footsteps did not cease when he did however, and Greg glanced over his shoulder at the sidewalk behind him. The area was well lit, the lamps running alongside the building since the area was frequented by cops, detectives and other agents at all hours of the day. But even so there was nothing there to be seen, and Greg could feel his heart skip a beat as he listened closely.

But the sound had died, and he forced himself to breathe, reassuring himself that he was hearing things. He was tired, and with the headache that was slowly forming it could be a number of things that he had heard. Vegas always carried a multitude of sounds, but even so Greg like to believe he had learnt them all by now.

Instead he shook his head, continuing to make his way to his car. The thoughts of a warm shower, a soft bed, beckoned to him and he hurried his step just a little. But as soon as he had he slowed, turning again to check behind him. He had heard the sound again, and just as the same time it disappeared shortly after he stopped. Greg swallowed, worried now, not so much that he was being followed but rather the fact that he was hearing so many strange things…maybe he wasn't as well as he wanted to believe…

He turned back around, coming to a sudden stop as he drew in a quick breath, the alarm dying down as soon as it had begun. "Can I help you?"

The man was standing mere inches from him, a short apology leaving his lips as he backed up a step. It made Greg feel a little better, knowing that there had been someone there, to know that he hadn't been hallucinating. But until he knew why this man was here, he couldn't let his guard down entirely.

He was slightly taller than Greg, dark brown hair that was styled thickly with grease and a thin beard that covered his chin. Try as he might Greg could not place him with someone he knew, but the pungent smell suggested maybe the man was lost. It wasn't too uncommon, tourists usually wound up lost, stumbling around here courtesy of a conceited taxi driver who had shuffled around one too many drunks.

They often figured dropping the lot off here was far better than any casino, and on top of that, they earned more pay simply because the mileage was longer. Greg knew the department was working on fixing the issue, but it was clear they hadn't solved it quite yet.

"You Sanders? Greg Sanders?"

For a moment he didn't reply, but then mustered enough sense to nod. Greg's mind was quickly switching from lost tourist to potential case suspect. More than once had someone on the team been approached by a third party with information to a current case, simply because they were scared witless to file a legal report. The fact that he was drunk suggested that there might be some cause of guilt as well…

"If you're here about any of the cases, you'll have to speak with my supervisor. I'm not authorized to take any statements, especially out here."

"No case," the man shook his head, casting nervous glances around the both of them. "Something personal…a friend of mine…said you could help."

"Who?" Greg frowned, studying the man. Surely it couldn't be someone he knew. He would recognize a face, but then again he had mentioned a friend. Maybe a name would spark some recognition.

The man shook his head, looking away, his face an array of emotions that Greg was unable to pinpoint. Perhaps it was the fact he was tired, or maybe it was just because his mind was currently occupied that Greg missed the next movement that happened.

In a sudden blur the unknown man lunged at him, arms wrapping about Greg's torso, slamming him against the nearest car. The blow stunned him, sending a jolt of pain through his body, but the sudden flow of adrenaline countered it, dampening it as Greg fought back.

Drunk as the man was Greg was able to keep most of his swings at bay, but the combination of weight and motion toppled the both of them over, the concrete breaking their fall as a snap sounded in the air. The sudden fall had knocked the air from his lungs, and Greg quickly found himself pinned as he fought to breathe, struggling under the mad man's grasp.

The flash caught his eyes briefly before the man swung the blade down, narrowly missing him as it struck the cement with a loud clunk, the man bring the blade back up for another blow. Greg kicked out; bring his knee up into the man's stomach, pushing up with arms even as the blade came back down.

The sudden motion knocked his assailant off balance, and Greg moved to his side, kicking out again as he scrambled away. The man was on his hands and knees again, grasping the knife and bringing it into the air, ready for another strike, but a single gunshot rang out in the air from behind them. For a brief moment the man watched from over the vehicle, flinching at the harsh demands to drop his weapon, then he turned and met Greg's gaze. Then without warning he moved to his feet, darting into the night.

Greg heard Nick's string of curses as the man came up around the vehicles, pausing for a half moment in decision to whether or not he wanted to follow the attacker. Greg could care less at the moment, closing his eyes as he laid his head down on the warm concrete, wrapping his arms about him tentatively.

His left arm was on fire, and his chest hurt painfully as his breathing slowly returned to normal, his heart still pounding in his chest. It was as though his body had forgotten to breathe during the entire exchange, and his mind raced with unasked questions. Greg tensed as the hand was laid on his shoulder, but relaxed as no real pressure was added.

"Greg, you're bleeding…"

"You don't say?" Greg responded sarcastically, gritting his teeth. He let out a breath, concentrating on calming his racing heart. Nick made no further comment, staying where he was, giving him the time he needed. It wasn't long until they were joined; the shot Nick had fired alerting everyone that something was wrong.

"He okay?" Catherine asked quietly, her heels clicking on the sidewalk as she approached.

"Yeah," Nick answered for him, squeezing his shoulder gently. "Small stab wound to the arm, we'll get it cleaned it up, he just needs a moment to rest."

"What happened?"

That was Grissom this time, and Greg opened his eyes as he slowly moved into a sitting position. Nick hooked an arm around his right one, helping him, easing him against the car to rest.

"He just attacked me," he confessed quietly, glancing at his arm mildly. It hurt, but it was more of a burn than anything else, the blade had done more damage to his jacket than his arm. Truth was that his chest hurt more, and it wasn't surprising, giving the tussle he had just taken.

"You didn't know him?" Catherine wondered, "What? Did he feel like taking a stroll and attacking the first person he saw?"

"He knew me," Greg told her quietly, meeting her gaze. "He knew my name, at least."

"So who did you piss off?" Nick asked, a slight grin on his face.

He would have responded, if he had thought of something good enough, but Grissom cut the conversation short, taking the lead. "This could be case related; names leak out all the time with who is working what, and if he is a suspect, he might be trying to get revenge."

"So he happens to just randomly be around when Greg leaves?" Catherine wondered, shaking her head. "That doesn't make any sense Gil."

"Nicky, get him inside," Grissom nodded towards the two of them. "You'll have to take evidence, Cath and I will see what we can find out here. We'll have Archie pull surveillance, and put a broadcast out for this guy."

Nick was already moving, and Greg took his offer on the slight help, pausing only long enough to look at Grissom. "I guess this means I don't get to go home?"

"Sorry," the older man shook his head. "This might be a random attack, but until we know for sure, you'll have to stay here."

"And that could take…months," Greg pointed out quietly. There was no way in hell he was going to stay here for that long, or even days for that matter.

"Get cleaned up, change your clothes and take the couch in my office until then," Grissom nodded towards him. "We will figure things out as soon as we can. You'll be home before you know it."

Greg only returned the nod, but somehow he doubted that to be true. He wanted it to be a bad dream, wanted to wake up in his own bed, and laugh at the reality of it all. Things only seemed to be taking a worse turn as time went on. It made him wonder, what exactly, would be in store for him in the coming days.

**TBC**


	19. As Time Begins To Turn

**Thanks for the reviews, and thanks to Kegel for the Beta!**

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**Chapter 19: As Time Begins To Turn**

Grissom had pulled a few strings. No, more than a few strings. Ecklie had been none too happy about this latest incident. The domestic abuse charges against Greg had been dropped, but that still hadn't satisfied Ecklie. She had waited, quietly, while Grissom spoke with the man. Sara herself wasn't sure how Grissom had managed to convince the man to not fire her…again. If he had then that would have been a new world record. She laughed bitterly at the ironic thought, shaking her head.

Of course nothing came without a price, and shortly after Grissom reemerged from Ecklie's office, he had sent her off on another case. Sara had argued, had wanted to argue, even for the sake of arguing. Everything was starting to take a toll on her, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep everything at bay. She remembered the promise she had made to Greg, and had wanted to talk with him, to make him understand.

Make him understand because he didn't, and that only made matters worse. What she had said, she hadn't meant in the way the words had left her mouth. She wasn't afraid of him…but rather of what may happen between them. The feelings were unmistakable. They had drawn closer, had gone from general associates to close friends, and even then the feelings only continued to grow.

There were many things that Sara was good at in life. She had a quick memory, and caught the details others seemed to miss. Yet the one thing she failed at was with relationships. Every one that she had previously held…had ended poorly.

She could see it in her mind, the way he spoke, the way he acted about her…Greg was entranced by her. He always had been, but before it had been in jest.

But the time they had spent out in the desert after the incident, knowing everything the man had done for her had started to change things. Slowly her feelings had changed; she had started to see him as a different person, a person she had liked. It had been her fault they had even gotten into that mess and now…now she had gotten them into another one.

All of it made sense in her mind, but she couldn't formulate the words to say what she meant. She would have to try, she knew, would have to convince Greg to hear her out. Convince him to listen. Long enough to understand. Then…then he could leave.

There was no doubt in her mind that he would want to stay. But he deserved to hear the truth, deserved to hear it from her and there wasn't anything that could convince her otherwise. Thinking it, and actually doing it…they were not the same thing.

Sara glanced at the time as she pulled up in front of the building, glad to finally be back. Eight hours at the scene…now if only she could go home. A small smile crossed her face as she put the vehicle in park, turning off the engine. Only if…she couldn't even remember what it felt like to work only eight hours a day. She was a teenager back then, and eight hours seemed entirely too long. If someone had told her then and there she'd be pulling double that in a single night…she may have very well sat down and started crying then and there.

Now it didn't seem so bad; of course there were always times like this, times when she desperately wanted to go, to leave and not come back for a good length of time. Everyone felt like that, she presumed, grabbing her case as she moved for the door.

She still got the looks; that much didn't surprise her. Sara knew the looks and the whispered words would last for a while. Part of her had gotten used to being the hearsay of the lab, and she had learned to tune it out. Not everyone agreed with her sense of interrogation, or her compassion for the victims. That alone had been the talk in the recent years. So now it was no surprise that the latest course of events only fueled everyone's need to gossip about her any further.

It wouldn't last forever, she knew, and the thought stayed with her as she set her case down on the table, moving to log in the evidence. It was a simple, straightforward case, a B&E, and Sara had wanted to finish it sooner rather than later. She would need to call Greg, maybe meet him at his place…she couldn't bear to face him at her apartment again, not after what happened the last time.

She let her mind drift in and out of the thoughts, her concentration focusing on the evidence at hand, marking them down, and sorting them. She knew her job, knew how to do it without even thinking. It was part of who she was, that alone would never change. And Greg…

Sara let out a sigh as she straightened up, tucking her hair back into a tail. Greg had always been her friend, had always been supportive. He had even been willing to sacrifice himself in recent times, and would rather keep his mouth shut and take blame that was not rightfully his in order to save her own dignity. Sometimes she wanted him to stand up, to fight back, instead of always giving in.

She finished the last of her evidence with a sigh, packing everything away. They would need to process the evidence in due time, but for now she was done, and she couldn't be more thankful. Hastily she pulled her gloves off, logging them as protocol required, before leaving the room.

Her plan had been to grab her stuff from the locker room, and head out before anyone else could stop her. The backlog in the lab had created long shifts, and she didn't want to be caught in yet another double. Greg would be out as well by now, and more than anything Sara wanted to secure that time for the both of them. Who knew when they would get another chance?

She stopped though as she passed by the layout room, her expression changing as she watched Nick. He hadn't noticed her there, or at least hadn't acknowledged her presence if he did. Slowly she took another step in, her eyes roaming over the clothes that were spread on the table as the man worked over them meticulously. At first she would have ignored it, for the clothes could have come from anywhere, but the jacket…she had seen the jacket, had even joked about it with him.

"Are those…Greg's?"

Nick nodded, a grim expression crossing his face as he met her gaze. "Didn't hear you come in, how was the scene?"

"Fine," she replied tersely. She didn't want to talk about that, her mind instead focused on what was in front of her as she entered the room. "Did we develop some sort of fetish, or is there a good reason you are digging through his things?"

"Some guy attacked Greg earlier when he was leaving," Nick commented, changing his tone at the alarm in her eyes, "he's okay. But the guy gave us the slip. I'm seeing if I can pull any trace off of his clothes."

"You get a description of the guy?"

"Between what Greg saw, and the cameras outside, we got a good enough one. Sketch artist has already finished the drawing; Brass is getting ready to post it outside the department. Grissom won't let Greg leave until we have an idea of what's going on. He's sleeping, pretty much crashed on Grissom's couch. Poor guy has had more trouble than he's deserved lately."

The Texan let out a sigh, his fingers slipping through the small hole in the sleeve of the dark material. "It was close."

"Greg always said it was his lucky jacket," Sara mentioned quietly, watching him, her eyes drifting to the table to see the rest of the clothes. She came to a pause as they landed on the paper, her fingers reaching out to pull it to one side. "Is this…is this the guy?"

Nick nodded, but said nothing else as he turned Greg's jacket over. Sara glanced back down at the paper, her heart skipping a beat inside her chest. It couldn't be…

But she had seen those eyes, would know them anywhere, she just didn't want to believe it. How would he have known, how could he have? She glanced up quickly as Nick called her name, the Texan watching her closely.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she squeaked, clearing her throat. "I'm good…I have to…there's something I have to do, I have to go."

She didn't wait a moment longer, not caring what the man thought, her mind preoccupied with one and only one thing at the current moment. Everything had gone on for too long, had gone too far, and now, had come to this. She had started this entire mess…now she would be the one to fix it.

* * *

He had no recollection of sleep; no dreams, no waking moments…simply remembered closing his eyes, almost as though he had blinked. But time had gone by, he had slept, the grogginess clung to him as he worked his eyes open, his gaze darting about the unfamiliar room. He couldn't remember how he got here, or where here even was. His body hurt, not terribly, but instead a timid ache, settling in his bones, quiet reminders to keep still, and move slowly.

Slowly memory returned, and the instances of what happened earlier. The drunken man…the gunshot…Nick collecting trace evidence. Another suspect, another crime scene. Greg let out a quiet moan as he closed his eyes again. When would it ever stop?

"You realize you snore in uneven patterns?"

Greg snorted quietly, shaking his head. "How long have you been watching me sleep?"

"Long enough to know you need some snore relief products," Grissom replied, "It's very distracting."

"Doesn't keep me awake," Greg defended himself, sitting up carefully. The last thing he needed was harassment this shortly after waking.

"How are you feeling?"

Greg winced as he flexed his arm outward, bringing it back a moment later to run his other hand over the bandage. "Like I got the crap beat out of me."

"You know, Henry Joe's down the street offers classes in self-defense, you might want to look into it," Grissom replied, glancing up from his desk. The man looked exhausted, as though he should have been the one to sleep. Greg couldn't blame him, it seemed as if everyone around the lab had been getting by on very little sleep.

"I can take care of myself," he replied quietly, "I just wasn't expecting some drunk lunatic to body slam me and try and dice me up, that's all."

"He was drinking?"

Greg nodded, "Heavy, something strong."

"Nick's running the case," Grissom indicated to his left, without even looking up. "Make sure to tell him."

"Yeah," he voiced quietly, moving to his feet. Another case… "No chance of me going home, huh?"

Grissom only smiled sympathetically at him, and Greg nodded quietly, shrugging his shoulders. It was expected; something that good could not be true. "Guess I'll go see if anything new came in…did I miss anything on the Harren Case?"

"Samples Mia ran came back as an unknown male, still waiting for tox results. Catherine ran back out to the scene earlier. Cold case as of now; talk to Nick, he might have something."

"So I'll go find Nick," he voiced sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Grissom could be helpful, but only at times he perceived that help was needed. Other than that it seemed the man left it up in the air for others to figure out. Greg waited for a moment longer, but it was clear that the man was not going to respond any further, prompting him to leave.

Even as he walked into the hallway, the aroma assaulted his nose, his stomach growling in protest. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten, and now he was starving. Mexican…enchiladas, he knew that smell anywhere. Dimly he wondered what the chances were of Grissom letting him leave to go grab some of his own. Not likely…Greg scoffed quietly, entering the break room.

Nick was seated at the table, shoveling the food in his mouth, giving a short wave in between bites. Greg only shook his head, moving for the fridge that sat in there. If he was lucky he would be able to find something someone had abandoned, or maybe one of his older lunches from the previous days.

"I got some for you over here," Nick called, only moments before he had pulled the door open. The man was motioning to the table where another container sat, and Greg let out a short sigh of relief.

"I owe you one, I'm starving."

"No big deal," Nick shrugged as he snatched up the container. "I figured since you couldn't leave the lab you might want something to eat, so I picked it up when I took my break."

Greg nodded, taking a seat next to him. It wasn't the order he normally had, but at the moment he could care less, savoring in the warm flavor as he took a few careful bites, the heat forcing him to eat slowly. He watched Nick continue to devour his own, wondering if the man even had taste buds left, or if they had all been burned off by now. Slowly he smiled, clearing his throat.

"Thanks, by the way."

"No problem," the man nodded, "Like I said, I was already on my break…"

"For saving my life," Greg corrected him, "not breakfast."

Nick laughed, "Well in that case you owe me seven dollars and thirty four cents."

"For saving my life?"

"For breakfast."

"Right," Greg shook his head, "I thought it was no big deal."

"Not," Nick agreed, "but if word gets out that I'm doing favors I'm going to end up going broke."

The man was surprising at times, but Greg only held up his hands. "Nothing on me, remember, you took all my clothes."

"Picked up some trace, just in case you were wondering."

The conversation change was swift, but it was something Greg was used to, and he nodded, his mind switching back into work mode. "He was definitely drunk, I think that's the only reason I'm still here."

"And you didn't recognize him at all?"

Greg thought for a moment, but shook his head. "Is he from a case?"

"You said he knew you."

"He knew my name," Greg corrected him. "That's not the same as knowing who I am. He said…something about a friend. Said that I could help him. Then he attacked."

"Help with what?" Nick wondered, but Greg only shook his head.

"He was drunk, who knows if what he was saying was even true?"

Nick nodded, finishing up what was left of his meal, and tossed the container in the garbage. "Well, we'll start with the trace, and then run over some of your old case files, and see if there's anything in them that would tie to this guy. He has to have a link somewhere."

**TBC**


	20. A Final Chance

**Big thanks to Kegel for catching all my mistakes :P**

**Thanks to those who are still with me, enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: A Final Chance**

It was all becoming too clear now. Like a vision from the past, intensifying over time, slowly growing without her knowledge until it was before her. The past days, the last week…all of it had spurred through her mind in a single motion, every event intermixing into one long nightmare. No, not a nightmare; a nightmare she could escape…this, this she could not.

Sara had ignored the looks, the questions, leaving as quickly as she had come. After the third call she had turned her phone off completely. This was her own matter; it wasn't for any of them to worry over. She was off work by technical standards…the lab only required a set amount of hours, and she had already filled them. Normally she stayed longer, but the drawing, the face she had seen…

Sara could still feel his eyes on her, as she had felt them before. They were never the kindest eyes she had seen. When she had first come across them they had seemed genuine, almost inviting…then she learned they had been too inviting. Almost pleading. He had wanted her to be near him. And the more time she had spent with him, the more he wanted from the relationship.

It wasn't just the physical aspect. Sara had distanced herself from that. Had made it clear that she wasn't ready. Michael had respected that, but it hadn't phased his need to be near her, to broaden the relationship…to control it. Every passing moment they had shared, the more apparent his needs became. He wanted the ultimate say in everything, wanted to be right, even when he was wrong. She couldn't live with that kind of domination.

Too often had she seen it with her parents, her young mind capturing the imagery that would last her well through the next lifetime. A silent vow had left her lips after years of recuperation, years of therapy. Never would she allow herself to be consumed in such a relationship. Or any real relationship, for that matter.

She used to hold fantasies with Grissom, used to imagine what it would be like. Then again who could blame her? For the longest time Sara had held most men in detestation for the things her father had done. Grissom had changed that view, and for the first time Sara had found herself not only to tolerate the man, but found herself growing fond of him as well. Then there was Greg, and her longing for a partnership not only strengthened, but began to become possible as well. And at the first taste of love, she had shied away.

Sara had gone home, keenly aware of what might await her, taking her time to scope the parking lot. This time of day though, everything was quiet, calm and serene. One would have to hide rather well if they were planning some sort of attack. Even still, Sara parked her car further down than she normally did before getting out.

There was little she remembered about her father, she was young then. But certain qualities stay with you throughout time, and she knew in her heart that Michael was like him. That meant that he would not so easily give up. He would come back. After all, he already had, but it had not been for her. It had been for Greg.

And how could have Greg known the man was a threat? Sara had not said anything, never given him any reason to worry or doubt his own safety. It could have been prevented, if only she had said something, if only she had told him that night. Still it was complicated, her own mind abuzz with tidbits and snippets of all that had happened. If she herself could barely understand it all, how in the world would he? Greg could not feel the way she felt, and therefore could never truly comprehend all that was happening.

Sara shook her head, hand coming to rest on her gun that was strapped in at her side. She always carried it when she was at a scene, and having left so soon she hadn't any time to store it in her locker. There was another gun she kept, for her own safety, in the apartment, but it would do her little good out here. So in turn she was thankful for the inconvenient lapse in memory, even though it would prove her no use here. She reached her door without incident, fumbling with her keys as she managed to get the door open.

It was the same routine here; Sara moved cautiously, one hand on her gun as the other flicked on the light. Her place was small, a comforting reassurance this time as she searched the place easily. Only once she was certain she was alone did she allow herself to relax.

Her thoughts from earlier were still with her, consuming her mind now that the initial fear was over. But the question of what to do was the most blatant one. She had to do something; Michael had to be stopped before he killed. The man had proven that he was willing to, and it had been a close call. Too close for her own liking.

The logical explanation was to go to the department, to confess. But that meant she would have to tell them everything, to tell them why they first started dating, to tell them why she never filed a report when things got out of hand. She still couldn't even convince herself, and the speculation of only adding more drama into the mix…

The repercussions of the alternate though…of what would happen if she actually did what was truly on her mind...

Her fingers traced down her side, gripping the gun with a gentle yet firm grasp, reassuring herself that it was still there. Her mother had done something similar, to protect the ones that she loved. Sara hadn't realized it then, but as the years went by she slowly realized it.

The one difference? Sara had the smarts her mother did not. She was a crime scene investigator. She knew what they would look for, the things they would find. She knew how to lead them astray, how to fool them. Michael was a threat, and Sara knew that a flimsy charge of an assault driven by drunken rage wouldn't be much to hold the man. And if he got out…

No, she would die before she let the man harm the people she loved. With resolve she nodded her head, knowing for sure what had to be done. In a fluid motion she reached into her purse, pulling out her phone, ignoring the messages that spun through the screen as she searched for the familiar number. The phone rung in her ear, Sara trying to keep her breath even, trying to ignore the pounding in her heart.

Then the ringing stopped, the muddled voice on the other end breaking through the silence, a man suffering from a serious hangover. She could hear his groggy greeting, and Sara wet her lips, trying to find her voice.

"Michael…it's Sara…we need to talk."

* * *

It was frustrating. Every lead they found had been cut off shortly thereafter. Every brief idea had been ruled out. Even the evidence they had collected had come up with nothing. Brass himself had heard nothing since putting the broadcast out, and no one had come by the crime lab to give out details.

He tried to be patient, he really did, but that was a trait that did not come easily to Nick Stokes. Growing up with a large family there had always been someone there to cater to his every whim. As a child, he never had to wait for long for anything, and hardly was there ever a time he found himself bored.

It was only when he had left his household, and became truly independent, did he enter that reality, and he had never quite gotten the hang of being patient. One would think otherwise, considering his job, but the truth was he filled the downtimes in between cases and test results with other lingering activities. That including everything from playing the latest sports game on the newest consol, or pretending he actually had a life outside this job.

But try as he might, Nick could not get his mind off of the case. Most of the time he could distance himself enough, a fierce reminder to not become involved, and for most of the time it actually worked. Some cases you could never distance yourself from, no matter the cost, and this was one of them. Greg was not only a colleague, but a friend as well, and someone wanted the man dead. That wasn't going to happen, not if Nick had something to say about it.

Grissom was still in his office, and Nick wondered briefly if the man even had a home outside the lab. It wouldn't surprise him to hear different, Grissom practically lived here, his office fully decorated with mementoes and other personal effects you would expect to find in someone's bedroom or den perhaps. Nick shook his head, dropping the case file on the desk before taking a seat.

"Let me guess," Grissom muttered, his eyes transfixed on the computer screen in front of him. "No leads?"

"Nothing," Nick clarified, "Greg's only a CSI Level One, so there weren't many cases he actually took the lead on, just simple B&Es, basic robberies, and there was no motive for anyone to lash out at Greg. His scenes were more for insurance claims than anything else. The few cases in which he was more involved, such as his proficiency test, all suspects are still in jail. I pulled off minute trace from his clothes, mostly dirt and gravel that was picked up outside. Fingernail scrapings come back to an unknown male, which doesn't help us because we already know our suspect is male."

"Did you check all his cases?" Grissom wondered, watching him now.

"All the ones that he led, yes."

"What about secondary cases?"

Nick shook his head, frowning. "You have any idea how many cases he helped with? What would it matter even? He wasn't named as the lead; if this is from a case file, then they would have no reason to attack Greg. They would go after who led the case."

"Not if they had their sources crossed. If Greg was the only name they got a hold of, either from video or photo footage, then that's who they would believe would be responsible for the case work. Do a run through of every case he handled for the last four years, including DNA work, and times he helped out in the field before certification."

"Well," Nick nodded with a sigh, "that just filled my schedule again. Thank you."

"You can do it on your next shift," Grissom reminded him. "You filled your hours already for today."

The Texan nodded, but disagreed with him. "Greg doesn't get to leave until we figure this out. And I'll be a lot calmer knowing that we have our guy."

He waited for the man to respond, but as expected there was only silence. Nick shook his head, leaving Grissom to his own wonders as he headed back for the computer lab. It had taken him a few hours to go through Greg's cases from the previous year, and those had been just the main ones. Nick had automatically ignored the minor cases because he assumed they were irrelevant, but Grissom had reminded him of the one key thing that never changed: human nature.

He came to a pause as he passed the locker room, a smile crossing his face as he stepped inside, shaking his head quietly. "What are you doing?"

Greg was seated on the ground, legs crossed under him, a variety of paper and clothes strewn about him on the floor and bench behind him. He returned Nick's smile of amusement with one of his, before answering.

"Cleaning."

"You sure?" Nick wondered, his eyes casting about the mess. "In whatever universe you live in, this might be considered cleaning, but here on earth we prefer to call it 'making a mess'."

"Okay," Greg said with a sigh, turning back to his work, "I haven't cleaned out my locker for a while now. I haven't had the time. Since I'm being held hostage here, I figure I could do something constructive with my time."

"I'm sure you could find something better to do."

"I'm sure you could find me something better to do as well," Greg agreed, sorting the loose papers into one pile. "But if I remember right, you said 'don't worry Greggo, I got this case, I'll have our guy nailed in an hour tops and then you can go home.' That was four hours," he paused, checking the time on his phone, "and sixteen minutes ago."

"So I was a little optimistic," Nick confessed, "I was hoping the DNA sample would go through."

"No luck," Greg shook his head, thinking for a moment. "I wonder what the odds are of me sneaking out of here without anyone noticing."

"Not good," Nick told him politely.

"Seriously, Nick; we have nothing on this guy. As far as we know he's a psychopath who just randomly picks his victims and I was on the top of his list."

"You said he knew your name."

"Yes," Greg nodded. "maybe he's seen me with my vest on. My name is printed on it. We've been around enough casinos and what not, maybe he just didn't like my hairdo."

"How did he know your first name then?"

"Lucky guess," Greg offered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Nice try," Nick responded. "You're not going anywhere."

"You can't stop me."

"Hey," Nick shook his head. "Don't make me break out the handcuffs."

"Now that's kinky, and normally I'd be all for it, but I don't think Grissom would allow us to experiment here at work like that."

"Yeah," Nick nodded to him. "If I tell Grissom that you're planning to sneak out of here, not only will he okay it, but he'll probably do it himself."

"Now see, I draw the line when it comes to my boss. Not only kinky, but wrong," Greg told him.

"You need some serious therapy, man."

"I think I've been told that before," Greg commented quietly, pretending to think it over.

"Where are your keys?"

The man frowned, looking up at him. "Why?"

Nick held out his hand, motioning with a come hither sign. "Give."

"I'm not giving you my car keys."

"I want your wallet, too."

"Why, you don't trust me?" Greg asked innocently.

"Not even in the slightest. The only way you're going to get out of here is if you walk all the way home. I know you're not that crazy."

Greg muttered something under his breath, but Nick wasn't able to distinguish what. The ex-lab rat waited for a moment longer, hoping that the Texan would leave, but when it became apparent that it wasn't going to happen, he finally relinquished his valuables, tossing both his set of keys and wallet through the air. Nick caught them easily.

"There," he muttered, "happy now? Not only am I mauled but now no one trusts me, and I'm being robbed by my own friends."

"I promise I won't steal anything permanently," Nick responded sweetly. "Not even the money you still owe me for breakfast."

"Oh," Greg rolled his eyes. "Now you're my hero."

"Of course," Nick nodded to him, "now I'm going to be your hero somewhere else and see if I can find out who this guy is."

* * *

Sara had picked this spot for more than one reason. Surrounded by trees, off the beaten path, virtually in the middle of nowhere. Those were only some of the reasons. With no houses around, and no heavy traffic, the chance of someone seeing something was remote. Especially at this time of night.

The sun had long set, casting an array of colors into the sky before fading to a dark navy blue that drifted into complete blackness. Stars shone overhead, visible only when one was away from the prying lights of the big city. She took comfort in them, pulling the jacket around her tighter as she waited. Michael should be arriving at any moment now.

The thought chilled her, sending a shiver down her spine as she began walking in a small circle, a feeble attempt to chase away the chill of night desert. There would be those who would call her crazy, completely out of her mind, and part of her would have to agree. Inside her chest her heart was pounding, and the events of the night had yet to even begin.

She shifted the strap of her purse on her shoulder, one bare hand reaching inside to feel the cold weight of the gun. It was loaded, a fresh cartridge inserted before she left her place. The feeling was a perplexing one, because she had never actually shot a person before, had never before considered doing so unless absolutely necessary, and even then she had believed that she wouldn't be able to take a life. Shoot to injure, not to kill, even if it meant risking her own life.

Yes, that was what she had used to believe. But it wasn't her life she was worried about. Who would he go after next? Would he keep trying until Greg was dead? Or would he move onto someone else? Nick or Warrick, Grissom perhaps. Catherine even…she barely tolerated the woman, but at the same time she did not wish her dead.

Her thoughts drifted off, her mind clearing as she saw the car pull to a stop behind her own. He had found his way. Sara forced a timid smile, attempting to put her best act forward. She had called Michael earlier, had told him she wanted to make things up, had offered to meet him out here in this old park for a nighttime picnic under the stars. He had foolishly believed her, agreeing to meet up as soon as they could. Sara had used her work as an excuse for the nighttime exchange. She had convinced him that she slept during the day, but if he had truly wanted to make it work, then he would come.

He had dressed up, a bundle of flowers drawn over his arms as he came to a stop before her, smiling warmly. "I brought you these….to make up for what happened. I didn't mean to mess up your place…but you have to realize I was just trying to help you."

"I know," Sara responded quietly, taking the flowers that were in his outstretched hand. It was sickening, for Sara had heard that talk far too many times. It was always someone else's fault, never theirs, despite that it had been their doing.

"We need to talk," she continued quietly, watching him.

"About what?" he replied, his voice becoming gruff. "You still want to break up, don't you?"

"No," she was quick in shaking her head. The last thing she needed was for him to become angry and irrational. What she needed first, was a confession. "I like you, I want this to work out. But we need to trust each other. You can trust me…right?"

The response had surprised him, that much she could tell. He pondered it over, quiet and withdrawn, and then finally he nodded. "Sure, I guess."

Sara nodded, forcing another smile. "You were upset…I made you upset, and I think you might have done something…"

"You said you cared about me," Michael cut her off. "Then you go off telling me you don't want to see me anymore. Of course that made me upset. Wouldn't you be upset if it happened to you?"

It already had, Sara thought duly. Brief flashes of Hank drifted through her mind, but she banished them quickly, bringing herself back to this moment. "I have this friend of mine…someone tried to stab him last night, when he was leaving work. I think it was you."

"Why do you say that?" Michael asked coldly, his voice changing as he watched her closely.

Sara shook her head, hand reaching into her purse once more. Her fingers wrapped around the gun, the weight giving her a comfort she was so familiar with. "Well, it made me realize how much you do care. That you're willing to do something like that for me. I thought it was sweet…"

The very words had been forced from her lips, and it hurt to say them. She wanted nothing more than to strangle the man in front of her for even considering to try and harm her friends. But she had to say it; she had to make him believe she was being sincere.

She watched him shift, saw the sly smile that crossed his face. "Well of course. Don't want anyone coming onto my girl."

"So you did try to stab Greg then?" Sara shook her head, her voice caught in her throat. She had always known it of course, but part of her had wanted to pretend it wasn't real, that it hadn't happened. Her fingers tightened on the gun as he confirmed it, Sara's body trembling to prepare with what was about to happen.

**TBC**


	21. Coming to a Conclusion

**Thanks goes out to my beta reader as always for helping me out with this. Don't forget to review on your way out!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One: Coming to a Conclusion**

Everything happened so quickly. All around them there had been silence save for the pounding of her heart inside her chest, echoing up through her body and reverberating in her ears. Her fingers tightened around the gun in her purse, pulling it free as he moved, realizing then and there that this had all been a set up. Michael was caught up in a quandary, his gaze transfixed on her and her firearm, but moving, shifting to the others as they pulled up around him quickly.

Brass was leading the way, gun drawn, approaching from her right, more men coming from her left, circling around the man that was edging back to his car. That wouldn't be an option though, Sara's eyes catching the blur of lights as they drew near, cutting off his escape route on the road.

"Stand back," Brass warned her, calling out to the man to give in to the authority. There was nowhere for him to go now.

Sara hardly heard Brass, her gun held steady, swallowing as the man let out a string of obscenities at her. It hadn't taken her long to realize that she would need help. Part of her could not believe she had even considered killing someone; Sara chastising herself even now for thinking of committing such an act. Even if she did kill him, even if she was able to hide the evidence, the guilt would eat away at her until there was nothing left. She already felt culpable for everything that had happened to Greg; the accident in the desert when they had fallen into the river, the assault report that had been filed against him momentarily, as well as the attack. She didn't need anything else added to the ever-growing list.

Yet now, as she gazed into Michael's eyes, the fury from earlier returned, his smug words echoing in her mind. Of how he bragged about what he had done, how he had been proud of it. Greg had been one of the best things in her dark and seemingly dwindling life, and Michael had tried to take it away. Even if things didn't work out between them, even if Greg never spoke to her after this…he was still a friend. A friend that had been hurt because of her…because of Michael.

"Sidle," Brass broke into her thoughts, his voice firm and angry. "Back down now," he warned, the iciness still in his voice.

She swallowed, realizing then and only then that her finger had been resting on the trigger in a deathlike grip. Her hands began to shake as she nodded, understanding that her job here was now done, lowering her firearm as they moved in to arrest the man. Michael's eyes never left her as he was cuffed, the anger apparent in his gaze, almost chilling. He could very well kill at the moment, and Sara wouldn't put it past him. Too many times had she seen this situation. Too many times now that she should have noticed sooner, soon enough to prevent all that had happened.

But things were only beginning, she knew. Carefully she pulled out the tape recorder that had been sitting in her pocket, handing it to the detective as he approached, the man taking it from her as she turned it off. He was livid, grabbing her by the arm as he led her away. "What were you thinking?"

"I told you I could get the guy," she answered, knowing full well why the man was so angry. It wasn't as if she had given them a lot of warning.

"You call out of the blue, deciding to use yourself as bait, stuff a tape recorder in your pocket, and show up without even knowing if we were going to be here. This man could have been armed, he could have killed you."

"Not if I could help it," she responded coldly, grimacing at her own words.

"And what were you planning on doing?" he asked, watching her.

Sara didn't respond at first, her gaze instead on the road as another car pulled to a stop. Grissom was out of the driver's side in mere moments, Nick from the passenger side. Whatever would follow would not be pleasant, she feared. Brass' voice snapped her out of her trance, Sara turning back to face him.

"It would have been self-defense," she answered simply.

"If you shot him, Sara, if you killed him, out here, in the middle of nowhere with no witnesses, it would be murder. You called him, lured him out here. It was premeditated."

"I got him, didn't I?" Sara demanded, already growing tired of the accusations. So she screwed up, again. What matter did it make? It wasn't something she could change.

"Jim," Grissom nodded at the man, barely glancing at her. "A moment, please?"

Brass watched her for a moment longer, nodding before he turned away. "You, do not move," he warned her.

She let out an impatient sigh, clutching her purse as the two men walked away, their voices hushed and quiet. Every so often they would glance her way, but never met her edgy gaze. Sara could feel the irritation rise; she didn't need to be coddled, didn't need to be treated like a little. Whatever they had to say, whatever they thought about her, they could tell her to her face.

Mere moments before she strode over to join them the two broke off, Brass moving to speak with his officers, Grissom coming her way. Any confidence she once held melted quickly. Grissom was one person she could not reason with. The man was a resemblance of a brick wall. You couldn't reason with a brick wall, you couldn't break it, nor get around it.

Quickly she turned away, her head hanging as he came to a stop in front of her, studying her with that quiet, unchanging gaze. He was examining her, much like he did evidence, or his own cockroach collection. He was a scientist, and everything she knew, almost everything she knew, she had learned from him. She knew he was going over every flaw, every issue, and every element that was out of place. Sara had given him plenty to go off of lately. Surely he saw a lot of errs in his choice to keep her on as a CSI.

"I screwed up, yes I know," she snapped finally, unable to bear the silence any longer. "I was hasty, irrational, and I choose lousy people to date and hang out with. I nearly got Greg killed and I could have killed myself. I could have avoided this entire mess if I just reported him after the incident at the apartment instead of lying about it. Have I forgotten anything?"

Grissom watched her, amused, "Well, you did leave work during your shift without talking to me or Ecklie."

"Yeah," she admitted softly, "if I did tell you then you would have asked why."

"Precisely why you should have. Why didn't you come to me before?"

She let out a sigh, shaking her head. The one question she couldn't answer. Why hadn't she? Why hadn't she gone for help, why hadn't she talked to anyone about it? More importantly, why hadn't she explained it to Greg? Instead she had scared him off, causing even more problems.

"I thought I could handle it," she answered softly, the details running through her mind.

"Well, hopefully you can," he told her. "We need to get back to the lab, run some samples, and do some interviews with this guy. Then Ecklie would like to see you in his office."

She forced a tight smile, nodding. "Of course he would."

* * *

Coffee…he needed coffee. But Archie had taken what was left in the pot and the department was out, and no one was willing to run out and get him some. Worst of all, he still couldn't leave the lab. Greg rubbed his eyes briefly, yawning as he sat down on the bench in front of his locker. He now had been working for twenty-seven hours straight, minus fifteen minutes here and there for short breaks. A considerable feat, concerning he was technically on medical leave.

What he needed now was some good strong caffeine…that or a sleeping pill and his own bed. No…forget the sleeping pills, and the bed…he could fall asleep right here and now. He almost did, the odd sensation of falling over snapping him out of his dreary-like state. Quickly he rubbed his eyes again, forcing himself to his feet. He couldn't fall asleep when he was up and moving around…could he?

To make matters worse there was no one around to help keep him awake. Aside from the lab technicians that were steadily processing evidence that was. He had already visited a few of them, all of which had demanded he leave shortly after. Greg couldn't blame them; he knew he could be…vocal at times, but he didn't mean to prattle. It was the only technique he knew in order to keep himself awake.

It wasn't that he couldn't sleep…rather more that he didn't want to sleep. Grissom and Nick had left nearly an hour ago after receiving an urgent message from Brass. Greg never got the gist of it all, but he knew it concerned Sara. That alone worried him. He hadn't seen her in days, and Nick had stated she seemed…disconnected, almost withdrawn yesterday.

A million things had gone through his mind, a million more still running, twirling in a cluttered circus-like act in his head, each scenario worse than the last. Several times he had tried to call now, each one being ignored. He assumed Nick and Grissom had finally switched their phones off; now they just went straight to voicemail. Catherine and Warrick were still out at their own scenes, not due back for several more hours. He could try and call them, he mused, but hardly would they know and he would only create unsound panic where it wasn't needed.

His next option, of course, was to go ahead and leave the lab. It seemed like a good idea at first; but then memory had slammed into him much in the same way the ground had after having taken the fall nearly a week back now. Nick had taken his keys, his wallet…this left him with no option of driving, or catching a cab. He could easily swipe keys to one of the Denalis, but that wouldn't go over so well. As soon as someone noticed he had, Brass would be hauling him back in, no doubt slapping him with a fine for driving without a license.

Greg let out a groan as he made his way back to the break room. The empty coffee pot sat in the sink, the fine grainy residual still lingering at the bottom. The coffee was cheap, the filters hardly working, but Greg would have taken a cup without question. Already he could feel the unwelcome pull, the signals his body was sending, telling him that he must rest, that he needed sleep.

He was moving again, walking the only thing keeping him awake. Briefly he wondered if walking outside along the front of the building was allowed. Technically it would still be on department grounds; fresh air would help him wake up. Yet Greg knew that wouldn't go over well. He could swear that Nick had planted spies in the lab; twice already he had tried to go outside for a brief moment, and hadn't even made it past the doors. The man meant well, but it was beginning to get rather irritating.

Instead he found himself wandering around the halls, earning looks from the other technicians, warning glares that told him to stay away. Greg offered them the briefest of smiles before continuing on. He was starting to reach the point of no return. Soon, he was certain, he would be dead asleep on his feet, his legs would continue to carry him around the building. The thought amused him, the briefest of notion entering his mind, wondering what the others would say or think when they saw him like that.

It was short-lived, a commotion in the hallway drawing his attention. All thoughts of sleeping vanished, his adrenaline pumping in his veins as he hurried around the corner, coming to a stop as the group of people entered. He noticed Brass first, leading the way with his long unbroken stride. More cops followed him, wrestling with a suspect.

A mixture of feelings washed over him, Greg recognizing his face instantly. When he had first thought of it being a simple attempted mugging gone wrong, it had been alright. That Greg could deal with; yet the smug smile on the man's face said differently. This man, whoever he was, had indeed known Greg, but to what reason the ex-lab rat couldn't fathom. Even more disturbing was the fact that this stranger had it set on killing him.

Greg turned away, his stomach tensing at the notion. He gathered his thoughts however, pulling them in close as he glanced back up, willing himself to face the man again, to try and piece it all together. But the stranger was gone, Brass and the cops moving into the interrogation room, and Greg caught sight of Grissom moments before the man followed.

Still it was concerning; no sign of Nick, no sign of Sara…or at least that was what he had thought, his eyes catching her form in the next moment as she came through the doors. Greg let out the breath he had been holding, relief surging through him then and only then. She was safe…he of course had feared the worst when the two men had stormed out of the lab earlier. Yet even as the questions were answered there were more that came to mind. Somehow this situation made less sense than when it had first started.

He hadn't moved; so he was startled as she reached a hand out towards him. Greg hadn't been paying attention, lost in his own thoughts, pulling away as he caught her movement from the corner of his eye. The simple feat caused Sara to withdraw, both anxious and yet tentative to reach out to him. Cursing him and his stupid tired-self Greg let out an apology.

"You don't look so good," she commented quietly, hands grasping the strap of her purse tightly as they fell in front of her.

"Well…I'd say you look better than I do, but then again…you always do."

It was an attempt to lighten the mood, to bridge the awkward gap between them. But it seemed to do the opposite, Sara not even offering a smile in return. The reaction was worrisome, Greg beginning to suspect that something more was going on, and he wet his lips, trying to stutter out something to stay.

"It's not…your fault Greg," she told him quietly, cutting off his failed advances. "There's a lot we have to talk about…that I have to talk about. Not here though…"

Sara hadn't indicated, hadn't pointed, but Greg followed her gaze to where it led down the hall. Slowly he understood, and the same familiar clench returned to his stomach. It was the nauseous feeling, the same one you normally got when you knew something was wrong, but you weren't quite certain what.

"Later then?"

Slowly she nodded, this time forcing a smile. "If you want to wait…you don't have to."

He shrugged, putting up his own façade for his own sake if not for hers. "Not like I have much of a choice, I'm being held prisoner. And I don't have any coffee. This truly is prison."

For the briefest of moments he could see the real Sara behind the reserved eyes, the spark lighting up her face, but it was short-lived. The same despondent look returned to her face and she moved by him without another word. Greg watched her until she was around the corner, knowing already to where she might be headed. It wasn't a promising sign, and Greg wasn't sure what was to come in the near future.

Yet it was something he could not ponder on at the moment, his mind occupied instead on the suspect they had brought in. The interrogation had already begun, but Greg would not object to overseeing the process partway through. Finally willing himself to move, he slipped into the room adjacent to the one Brass and Grissom had entered earlier, preparing himself to face the man that had tried to kill him only the day before.

**TBC**


	22. Involvement

**Thanks to my beta for doing this a quick once-over. My writing isn't at its best late at night so she caught a lot of stupid mistakes. Roughly one more chapter to go after this, so enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Involvement**

He never thought he'd be here. Not on this side, not for this reason. Earlier he would have given anything for a nice warm bed, a long uninterrupted sleep. But not now; now he couldn't even think about sleeping.

Instead he stood here, watching almost with detached emotion. The two-way mirror protected him from being seen, but Greg knew the man had seen him already. The man probably knew he was watching, more in likely thrilled at that fact. For him though, it was unnerving.

Who was he? Why had he wanted him dead? More importantly, how did he know him? These were only a few of the questions bouncing around in his head. Greg wasn't able to answer them, only able to watch as the interrogation progressed. They were simple questions that were asked, the usual. The ones that they always had to ask. The man replied in an uninformative manner, answering them without really truly answering. Still it boggled his mind, Greg trying to piece together what he knew to what he perhaps should know. But nothing came.

This was still going on when the door near him opened, Greg meeting the other man's gaze cautiously. Nick looked none too happy, closing the door quietly as he approached. "You shouldn't be here."

"Where should I be?"

He was angry, and bitter. Who could blame him? The more questions that were asked the more anxious he became. The man, known as Michael Tanners, was thirty-four years of age. That was all they knew. But the name…Michael…why did it sound so familiar?

Of course he was bound to know or recognize the name. He had crossed paths with many people since coming to Vegas, but surely he would remember someone that wanted to kill him. Wouldn't he? The more he thought about it the more it confused him. He was slightly startled as Nick came up near him, the man placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You're too involved with this…you need to leave."

"I need to be here," Greg corrected him. "This concerns me."

"Exactly," Nick agreed, "which is why you should leave. I'll fill you in on the details when we figure out what's going on. You'll be the first to know."

Greg shook his head, watching him. "No, I won't. I'll be the last. All of you here, right now; you'll know first. He wanted me dead, Nick…I deserve to know why. You wanted to know, when it was Crane, when he attacked you, didn't you?"

The question worked, he could see Nick considering it, thinking it over. Finally he nodded, giving in with a sigh. "Not a word, not a comment. This is still an active case, understand?"

Greg nodded, relieved. He wasn't stupid, he didn't need Nick reminding him that they could lose the case. This was only beginning, not ending. Quietly he shifted in the silence, waiting for the questions to begin anew, Grissom and Brass talking quietly in one corner of the room while the suspect stared straight ahead.

It seemed like forever, in reality it was only a span of several minutes, before the two returned to their normal positions. Whatever they had discussed seemed promising enough, but the next question spoken was not one Greg was prepared for.

"How do you know Sara Sidle?"

Grissom had been the one to ask, his voice cutting through the air. The smile on Michael's face disappeared, replaced by an angry frown as he sat up. "No business of yours."

Michael…the name; Greg closed his eyes, running it through his head. It couldn't be…could it?

"Sources tell us she used to be your girlfriend."

"Still is last time I checked," Michael snapped back, "who says differently?"

It was. Greg felt his breath catch in his chest, and he shook his head in denial, thinking it through. This was the same man Sara had met, the same man that had stormed her place…the same man that had tried to kill him. But why him? What had he done to earn the wrath of this unstable man?

"Sara tells us that she asked you to stay away," Grissom continued. "Why didn't you?"

"I left when she told me to," Michael played quietly.

"Before or after you roughed her up?"

That was Brass, the man's voice no kinder than what Grissom's had been before. The question caused the man to laugh though.

"Wasn't my fault; she made me angry. But I'm a man of my word. I left, gave her time to reconsider what she was doing. Didn't want her to make a mistake."

"And when she didn't come crawling back to you, what did you do then?"

"Fellas," the man laughed, grinning now. "I care about the girl; there's a reason we're dating. I knew she would come back to me, it was only a matter of time. Then she got distracted, that guy of hers showed up to her place. She told me about him before. I'm a one girl type of man, and honestly, I don't want to share. Had to get rid of him somehow."

Near him he heard Nick curse quietly as the interrogation wore on. Greg glanced his way but only briefly, the thoughts storming through his mind now. Was this how Nick had felt upon learning Nigel's reasoning? To learn of the man's infatuation that centered around him?

It wasn't the same, Greg knew, but it was close. This was the same man that Sara had feelings for…but then Sara had uttered those words, had said herself that she was afraid of Greg. And he had done nothing, nothing but try to care for her. But Michael, Michael had attacked her.

It didn't make sense. How could Sara fear him when he had never harmed her? How could she…after all that he had done? Back in the river, when Greg had felt that things were hopeless, when he had felt the only chance for survival was giving in to save her, he had thought, had strongly felt that it had been the right course of action. But not now. Now he was beginning to wonder; now he was beginning to try and sort it all out. Had he truly given her everything only to be paid back in such a way?

It was selfish, he knew, to think of such things. He didn't try to save her life merely for the gratitude of it all. He did it because he cared for her, did it because…because he loved her…

But that was foolish thinking now; it was clear she didn't return that obvious affection. Did she care for him? More in likely, in the same manner she cared for everyone else here. No more and no less. He was nothing more than a simple friend. The sudden realization was painful, to the point that he had missed most of what was said. But he didn't care, couldn't care. Now it felt as though none of it mattered.

Sara had lied, had lied to cover her own skin…and in the end he had almost paid with the price of his own life.

* * *

"Have a seat."

His voice wasn't kind, nor was it inviting. Sara had half a mind to keep standing just to drive him mad, to pull him off his solid edge. But she thought against it. This would mark the second time she had been in this office in less than a week. That was a new record according to her.

If she wasn't fired and permanently banned from the department this time…that alone would be a miracle. Carefully she edged herself down on the chair, resting her purse on her lap as the man began. She barely listened though, already knowing the infamous speech by heart.

She had screwed up, she had endangered someone's life, she should have said something sooner. All of this was already known to her. None of it was a surprise. In her mind, she focused instead on figuring out what she would tell Greg, of how she would explain it all. From time to time her concentration was broken, Ecklie's words filtering in so that she could piece together the majority of the conversation.

"…a threat to this department…"

She could always tell him another fib. Fudge the truth in her favor. She couldn't hide everything, for surely he would find out through the others during the interrogation. Word was never kept quiet here at the lab, so it would only be a matter of time before he did figure it out.

"…if you are worth keeping around…"

But no…she couldn't lead him on to believe false hopes. She owed him the truth, he deserved that much at least. Yet explaining it, trying to make him understand when she barely understood it herself. How was that even possible? Trust was a fragile thing, and she wanted to maintain it between them. But Sara felt she had already destroyed that trust. Greg had never held back from her, had always been open and honest. A favor she returned with a lie and a cold shoulder. She had truly felt she was doing what was best for the both of them at that time.

"…probation, suspension, or I could just fire you…"

She closed her eyes, letting the words roll on by. Right now they meant nothing. She was prepared to take whatever would come. Her only concern was Greg, and she had done the right thing in order to keep him safe. They had enough to hold Michael until DNA matched. The samples Nick had collected from Greg after the attack earlier would provide more than enough to put him away for attempted murder. Assault was something that could be pinned against him as well, if only she had paid more attention.

It was too late for that now. Nothing could be done that would hold up in court. But he would go away for several years at the very least. Until then Greg was safe…she was safe. Sara suddenly found herself not caring very much about her safety.

"…that is why," Ecklie came to a stop in front of her, snapping Sara from her daydream. "That is why I have decided to let you off easy. This time."

"What?"

Was that it? No suspension, no write-up slip, no probation…more importantly, not being fired? Was Ecklie on drugs?

"Having problems hearing, too?"

"I figured…something would happen, at least," she admitted, still unsure if she had heard him correctly or not.

"Tell me why I should punish the others because of your mistake? I believe you understand what you did was wrong, and that such an instant will _never _happen again. Am I wrong to assume this?"

Sara was quick to shake her head, still in disbelief. She wondered if Grissom had anything to do with this light reprimand, but then again she knew Grissom hadn't any time to discuss it with Ecklie. Then her mind flashed back to what Greg had told her earlier, a smile coming to her face. Ecklie would remember he would need to find a replacement…truly it was Greg's doing that had saved her job, not just once, but twice now.

The truth was, she owed him more than just an explanation. She owed him an apology, and an offering of thanks.

* * *

Usually it was the silence that drove him crazy. Greg had learned at a very young age that sound was his friend. As a child he would slip out of bed, and turn the television on. He couldn't sleep unless there was noise. That worked for only so long; his parents didn't enjoy being woken up in the middle of the night to the unplanned programs going on in the background. So he had migrated, from the noise of the television, to the sound of a leaky faucet, the gentle hum of the fridge, the snores of his parents in the next room.

It was a habit he had grown up with. Even now, as an adult, he needed noise on an almost consistent basis to help him function. That was why he talked so much, why he listened to his music when he was working, why he slept with radio or television on. But now he didn't care; he simply didn't care.

Greg hadn't waited, hadn't slowed when Nick had called out after him. He needed to get out of there, needed to leave; he didn't care where he went. It was a difficult task; Nick still had the keys to his car, still had his wallet. The only option was to walk; it was the option he took.

At this time, at this hour, the back streets were virtually dead. No life, no emotion, no noise. That alone should have driven him crazy, but he was too occupied to even notice. His mind was alive, racing with all the emotions he could muster up in one single thought. Anger and pain, and wanting to blame her, but wanting to forgive her. The knowledge of betrayal, the feeling of rejection. It was an overwhelming sensation all rolled up into one package.

At the same time it was amusing, but in a grotesque manner of sorts. Dimly he wondered how much the body could handle before snapping altogether. If it wasn't soon, then Greg would be surprised. If he didn't break emotionally, then he would physically.

Exhaustion was rampant inside of him, but he couldn't sleep, not now. His body ached from head to toe, each throb and every bruise hurting more with each passing moment. His endless trek wasn't helping things either. How long had he walked now? He wasn't sure; he no longer knew where he was, and without that knowledge figuring out the first part wasn't possible. And still, he kept walking.

There was no destination in mind; he just simply needed to get away. He needed to be alone, needed to think, needed to rationalize. But what was there left to do so? Sara had lied, had betrayed him. Nothing he did, nothing he tried would ever change that. Even the simplest of reasonings fell short in his mind. There simply was no logical answer.

These were the thoughts he was lost in, wrapped so deeply in exhaustion that he hardly noticed a change in surroundings. He failed to see the light on the road ahead, didn't notice the humming sound as it approached. Twice his name was called out before he even registered he was being followed. He knew then, but Greg wasn't ready for a confrontation, wasn't ready to be told he was crazy, wasn't ready to hear what he already knew.

Nick drove ahead, parking a few feet away, moving from the car without even turning the vehicle off. By the tone of his voice, the posture of his body, Greg could tell he wasn't exactly happy. For a moment he wondered if the other might even become physical, slowing Greg in his tracks. But the Texan just stood there, watching him with a sad shake of his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Walking."

Greg had answered without much thought, stating the obvious that could be seen. The answer provoked a dry laugh from the other man.

"Middle of the night, in the middle of Vegas, with no protection or cell phone…are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I would drive," Greg pressed. "But someone took my keys."

"For this precise reason," Nick answered, moving up to him. "Get in the car, we're leaving."

"I'm not going back to the lab."

"Don't worry," the Texan answered, turning away from him. "I figured you wouldn't want to, you can crash at my place for the night. I already have my couch ready."

It wasn't that odd, considering he had stayed the night at Nick's more than once. On off days when they used to hang out with one another it was often expected even. But knowing how Nick lived, Greg knew it was virtually impossible to find a place to even sit on his couch, let alone sleep on it. Last time it had taken the man nearly half an hour to clear it off and find spare blankets and a pillow. That had been several months ago, so there was no telling what kind of state it was in now…

So why had Nick said he already had it ready? Nick had heard the confession just as well as he had, would have pieced it together just as he had. But even if that was so, even if he had guessed then, Nick wouldn't have had any time to run back to his place and clean up, before coming to find him. Unless…

"You already knew."

Greg uttered the words quietly, feeling the truth sink in and yet hoping and praying he was just speculating. But the man hadn't moved, hadn't responded, and Greg nodded, feeling even more betrayed. "So everyone knew but me, isn't that great?"

"Wasn't like that," Nick explained, moving closer to him. "I guessed; Brass gave us a call saying that Sara knew who the guy was and we had to be at the park asap. It wasn't like I was keeping secrets from you."

"Of course not," Greg laughed sadly. "You just knew something I didn't, but probably should know, and you decided not to tell me."

"I didn't want to say anything until I knew for sure. There was a reason why I didn't want you in there."

"Then why did you let me stay?"

"Because you needed to know," Nick nodded towards him. "Just like I needed to know with Nigel Crane."

It was true; he had learned the truth, but it didn't make it any easier to bear, and the new burdens only added a weight that felt impossible to remove. He couldn't blame Nick for his own wants and desires, even now after they had turned out so flawed.

"So are you coming? Or do I have to drag you there?"

He almost laughed; would have laughed if he didn't think it to be true. But he knew Nick better than that, and wouldn't put it pass the man to try such a feat. And the last thing Greg needed was more pain on top of the heap that was continually piling up on him. Not only that, but a long uninterrupted sleep was not only desired, but welcomed with open arms.

What was more appealing, was the simple knowledge that venturing to Nick's place meant he wouldn't have to encounter Sara. And that…that was more inviting than the soft and warm couch beckoning only moments away.

**TBC**


	23. Endings

**Final Chapter here; thanks to Kegel for the beta. No sequel planned as of now, switching my focus to some of my other on-going stories at the moment. Read and enjoy, and don't forget to review!**

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**Chapter Twenty-Three: Endings**

She had practiced it redundantly, reciting the lines over and over in her head. Had been thinking of them while in Ecklie's office, on her way to the break room, and again as she moved from there to the locker room. By then she had forgotten them. Her attention was instead focused on finding Greg. She had hoped to find him waiting for her, had hoped for the both of them to leave before Michael was led away. Part of her was hoping, hoping that she could explain things before Greg took them the wrong way. That was all they were though, futile hopes.

There was no sign of him; half the lab techs working recalled seeing him no less than an hour ago, and quite a few seemed to be thankful that he was nowhere in sight. It was slightly humoring, she had to admit, because she knew Greg could be talkative, more so when he was nervous. That was the part that worried her more. He had every reason to be nervous, she couldn't stop that, but she needed to help resolve it. Considering she had been the true start to it all. But where had he gone?

Night was nearly over now, and with the dawn approaching most of the night shift had already left, their places being taken by days who staggered in at the early hour. Theoretically he could have gone home as well, but then again his car was still here. Grissom hadn't assigned him a new case, and he hadn't heard from the man either.

It caused her to worry, but Grissom hadn't paid much heed. She had barely heard the older man mumble something about Nick, and turned her attentions instead to contacting the Texan instead. Greg's phone was off, having gone straight to voice mail, and Nick's was much in the same state. That left her only one option.

She had been to his place before, but it had been so long her memory had a difficult time grasping onto the fragmented thoughts, piecing them together slowly. Recollection hit her as she approached the streets, nodding to herself as she turned up the last road. She parked along the sidewalk, watching the house quietly as she turned off her car.

Part of her was still unsure to why she had come here. Greg's place would have been the most logical to check first, but Sara hadn't gone there, had come here instead. If Nick had taken Greg home, it would mean more sense to keep him here. That way no one would have to worry about getting Greg back to work the next night, and furthermore he wouldn't be alone if Michael made bail. That in itself was unlikely; not only was the bail amount high, but from what she could remember the man had no immediate family, and no real friends. That was part of his reason he had obsessed over her so much.

She fought of the slight repulsion, reminding herself that it was indeed all over. There would be a trial both she and Greg would testify at, and then they both could go about their lives as normal. Or as normal as they possible could go. Things would be different between them, that much was for sure, but Sara was curious to know if that damage was permanent, or short-lived. She hoped it was the latter, and with that thought she slid out of the driver's seat, heading for the door in the morning sun.

She came to a pause when she reached her destination, wondering then if she should really be here or not. The discussion could wait, if Greg was truly here now, but part of Sara knew that she could not. For her sake if for anyone else's. Paranoia had set in quite a while back, and she had ghastly envisions that plagued her mind; she needed to see him for herself, needed to remind herself that everything was fine, that everything was going to be okay. With that final thought, she knocked on the door.

In the stillness of the morning the knocks echoed around her, sounding hollow in the room just beyond her reach. They died down as she withdrew her fist, leaving her standing alone in the silence. Her ears listened intently, hoping to catch the slightest of sounds. But there was nothing. Once again she moved to knock, but paused as she heard it then, the footsteps on the other side. And so she waited.

She could hear the locks being fumbled with, and forced a smile as the door was finally opened. The look that greeted her was nowhere near as thrilled as she was, the man watching her, raising an eyebrow for a questioning glance. Sara was quick to clear her throat, part of her afraid that Nick might actually close the door on her.

"Well?"

He had beaten her to it, relief flooding through her then. Sara hadn't been able to form the words she wanted, but now she felt more confident that the silence between them was broken. "Is Greg here?"

Nick nodded, but made no move to invite her in, standing there instead, watching her. With a sigh Sara cleared her throat, trying again.

"Can I come in?"

"I don't think that's the best idea."

"I need to talk with him," Sara pressed, straining to see over his shoulder, but Nick only shook his head.

"You can talk later, right now, he's sleeping."

"I promised that we would."

"Well, obviously he doesn't care much about that, considering he left the lab on his own instead of waiting for you."

The accusation stung; she hadn't wanted to admit it, but what more could she do? She couldn't change the past, but she just couldn't turn away and pretend that none of it had happened either. She was in a hole and only digging herself deeper. That was why she needed to talk with Greg, and the apprehension was only building inside of her with each passing moment.

"Let us decide that, will you?" she finally answered, growing weary of his tactics. Whatever happened between the two of them was their own business. Nick did not need to be involved. But the Texan only shook his head, mouthing the word 'later' as he closed the door, leaving her standing there in semi-shock.

Minutes passed before she got the sense back in her, moving to knock on the door, hoping to bring him back, or at least wake Greg who would most likely let her in. But there was nothing, only the sounds of her knocks and weary voice. Finally she pulled away, accepting the slight defeat quietly. It was not total surrender though; Sara knew there had to be a way in.

Without another word she finally left, climbing into her car and driving off, making a loop around the block. There was no doubt in her mind that Nick had been watching, waiting for her to leave and she had to make it seem real. This time she parked further up the street, far enough to where Nick would not see her, but close enough to reach his place without having to walk a marathon.

Now she was thankful for the time of day it was; by now most people were already gone off to work, and would not question a lone woman sneaking through the yards and climbing the fence. This was good; the last thing she needed was a breaking and entering charge on her record. That would not only get her fired, but more-in-likely would land her in jail as well. That's why she had to be careful.

But her heart was pounding in her chest, threatening to give her away as she approached his house from the backside. A sliding door faced her then, and she moved behind an overgrown hedge, peering out from behind as she stared inside. She could see the shadow on the wall, and caught a glimpse of Nick as the man passed from one room to the next, disappearing from sight again. This, all of this felt so unnatural. It was almost…wrong.

Then again she could always place the blame on Nick. If the man had just let her in when she asked she wouldn't have had to resort to this. Mind made up, her attention moved from focusing on her thoughts, to figuring out a way inside. That was when she caught a glimpse of the open window, propped up by a worn book. Smiling to herself she could only shake her head, realizing then that it was all too easy.

* * *

He didn't want to come here at first, didn't want to rely on someone else to have to take care of him. That reasoning alone had angered him more. Greg wanted to be on his own; Nick refused to let him out of his sight. What was more than irritating was the simple fact that Nick refused to take the bait, refused to be drawn in a pointless quarrel. And Greg had wanted to fight, an array of emotions flooding through him that desperately needed to be released, without caring on whom. If he held onto them any longer, he felt as though he would explode.

But he didn't. By the time he had reached Nick's place, and changed into clean clothes, he had been too tired to care. He didn't even fight with Nick when the man helped him to the couch in the spare room. He had fallen asleep seconds before his head hit the pillow. And what was truly several hours of sleep felt only like a few spare minutes when he was awoken next.

It was mostly dark still, daylight drifting in around the curtains, casting him into further confusion as he tried to figure out what had woken him. The first few seconds were muddled, his mind grasping at where he was, and why he was here. Memory returned, but with it more confusion; shift wouldn't start for hours yet, and that was if he would even go in. Grissom had discussed issues involving his medical leave shortly before having to leave for the call concerning Sara. It wasn't set in stone yet, but Greg was desperately hoping that tonight would be the first night. He desperately needed it.

This time he heard it; the same sound he had heard before without really meaning to. His eyes searched the room as he pushed the blankets from his chin, forcing himself to sit up despite the fatigue and faded pain. He wasn't alone, that much he could tell for certain, but was it Nick, the man perhaps checking in on him and not wanting to seem overbearing? Or had someone actually broken in?

His questions were answered in the next moment as the figure moved towards him, Greg trying to call out, searching around to find something that could help him. But the hand clamped over his mouth, the quick quiet voice following after, turning his sudden fear into stark confusion.

"Be quiet, he'll hear us," she whispered, glancing around the room quickly. The door that led out to the hallway was ajar the smallest of fractions. Their quiet breaths intermingled as one, the only thing that could be heard as she watched the door intently, as though expecting someone to barge in at any moment. Finally Greg could take it no longer, pulling back from her in one abrupt motion.

"Sara?"

She hushed him again, her head shaking as she continued to watch the door. Greg followed her gaze, wearing a frown on his own as he tried to sort things out. Who was she expecting? Where they in some sort of danger? Why was she even here and exactly where was Nick?

"What's going on?"

Sara looked at him then, motioning for him to keep his voice low, answering him in a whisper. "I don't want Nick to know I'm in here."

"Why?"

"Let's just say he won't be happy," she whispered.

"Isn't he going to notice you're missing after a while?" Greg pondered, watching her, "I mean, you come by to visit, then disappear. What's he going to think?"

"He doesn't know I'm even in the house," Sara clarified after a moment, turning away from him to stare at the door again.

That alone didn't make any sense to Greg, the man trying to sort it out. Of course Nick would know that Sara was here, he would have let her in. Unless…

"You broke in!"

He had never seen her move so fast in his life. One moment she was sitting there, crouched beside the makeshift bed, the next she was nearly on top of him, hand covering his mouth as she hushed him fiercely. Her gaze flicked from where they were sitting, to the door, then back again. Several long minutes they waited, Greg in cross of wanting to throw her off and scream at her about her stupidity, and yet wanting to collapse in his own laughter at the irony of the entire ordeal.

Only when there were no signs of life did she pull back, Greg letting out a groan as her weight was lifted off of him. He rubbed his arm subconsciously, watching her, the initial shock wearing off. In replacement was disbelief, and he shook his head slowly, letting out a sigh.

"You actually broke into a house."

"Yes and no," she answered with a whisper. "Window was open."

"You broke in," Greg clarified, pulling his knees up to his chest as Sara sat down on the end of the couch. "Have you ever heard of knocking at someone's door?"

"I did," she answered, "and I didn't break anything, I just came in. So really, it's not like I actually did something wrong."

"You can't talk yourself out of this one, Sara," he reminded her. "You're a criminalist. You know what they would say about this. I mean, think what you would say to someone else who had done this."

She nodded, but it didn't seem to upset her too greatly. She was already moving on. "I wanted to talk with you. There are some things I should have told you."

"Obviously," Greg's answer was dry, and he turned away, remembering suddenly why he was mad with her. Near him he could hear Sara sigh, the slight feelings of remorse creeping up in him, but he ignored them. He still wanted to be angry with her at this moment, had every right to be as well.

"How much do you know?"

"I know that you've lied to me, that you've been lying to me. That's about it; because honestly, what can I believe?"

It was a shallow answer and he knew it. He almost regretted it; the look on her face was desolate, as though his response had truly hurt her. He pushed it aside, Sara had hurt him more than once emotionally in the recent past, and karma was not exactly known to be kind.

"I deserved that," she muttered, shaking off the barb as she raised her head. "And you deserve to know the truth."

He nodded, waiting for her to continue, watching as she fiddled with the strap on her purse, the slightest motions seemingly distracting her from her task at hand. Her voice was quiet, forcing Greg to lean in closer to hear her, and it was unnerving to how she wouldn't meet his gaze.

But the story still came, starting with recounting the events that had happened to the both of them at the one dismal case. Greg could remember it all too well still, despite it being in the past, and only listened partially, his own thoughts wrapped around his stomach that was slowly tying itself in knots. But her story started to change after that, her voice growing stronger than it was before, but clearly still struggling to form the words. He soon forgot about his own fears, entranced with her own as she went on.

"It wasn't the best way to start something," Sara explained, meeting his gaze. "I've always been reckless, acting on impulses; so far they haven't gotten me anywhere in this life. The last thing I wanted to do was to follow a childish…belief…a fantasy, and have it screw up once again. But I couldn't say no, so I had to find a reason to say no."

She paused here, leaving him in slight confusion as he tried to piece her story together. Then it dawned on him, the realization coming swiftly. "Me?"

"Don't sound so surprised," she commented dryly. "I've thought about it before, but I was too afraid to see how it would end. I'm not the best person to date, every relationship I've had has ended on bad terms, and I don't ever speak to the person again. Look at Hank…and not only that, Michael."

"No offense, but he wasn't exactly a keeper," Greg reminded her, rubbing his arm again. "Where did you find him anyway?"

"I wasn't going to actually find someone," she went on, "just mention it, pretend I was seeing someone. I mean, our lives are so busy no one was going to question it. No one would think it odd that they never saw this supposed guy, or heard about it. Honestly, there's half a million people living in Vegas, not including tourists, so it wouldn't be that difficult. Then Michael came along, he seemed nice at the time, and he sort of became a part of my plan."

It made sense, Greg would have to admit, but even though that played on his nerves, it wasn't what truly bothered him. "Why didn't you just tell me you weren't ready for a relationship?"

"You would think that I was lying. I dated several times before, everyone knows that…and truthfully…if you asked, I don't think I could have been able to say no."

"I would have never hurt you," Greg pressed, remembering her earlier words.

"Not intentionally," she agreed, smiling at him. "But we all do stupid things when we're in love. That's not the point though," she let out a sigh, shaking her head. "The point is…I value you too much as a friend to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me."

"You say that now," she nodded, "but so did Hank. And you know how that turned out."

Greg could remember, could recall how hard it had been for Sara to move on after that. Could even remember vowing that he would never do the same to any woman he truly loved. Life was a lesson you learned bit by bit. He let out a sigh, watching her tiredly. "You could have saved a lot of trouble if…"

"If I just said something," she cut him off. "I know. I've gotten the lecture from Brass, Nick, Grissom, and from Ecklie. I don't need it from you as well. I can understand my own stupidity."

"And now you're in more trouble because you broke into someone's house."

"We've been through this," she rolled her eyes, "I didn't break anything. Besides, no one is going to know. I'll be out of here before Nick even catches me."

"What about me?"

"What about you?"

Greg laughed, smiling. "I've seen you. What's stopping me from reporting you?"

"You won't report me."

"I can."

"You won't."

He wouldn't, that much he already knew, but it was still enjoyable to watch her cringe under his gaze. At the moment he held so much power in his favor it was sort of intimidating, but he didn't let it go to his head. Sara said nothing more, only moved off the couch to move to the door, watching the hallway from where she stood as if trying to plan her next move.

It was then Greg did something that surprised the both of them. He asked her to stay.

* * *

He wasn't sure how it happened; wasn't sure if he even wanted to know how it happened. He had left Greg in a separate room, knowing that he himself would be up and about for several more hours yet. Greg would sleep for quite a while longer, exhausted both mentally and emotionally. It was true he had known more about what was going on between Sara and their latest suspect than Greg did. But he hadn't said anything simply because he had wanted to protect the man.

It hadn't worked in the end, Greg still figuring out things on his own. And why wouldn't he? To anyone it was obvious what had transpired, for Greg, it would be even simpler. It was only a matter of time. But that didn't keep Nick from wanting to prevent the inevitable.

It would be rough times for a while, he knew. There would be an awkward atmosphere at the lab between both Sara and Greg, and it would be expected. Time would see them through, and the hope was that they would be at least on speaking terms, enough so they could both work through a case without feeling out of place, or trying each other's patience. That was why he had shut her out earlier. It was a hard call to make; Nick cared for both of them.

Greg had been his friend longer than Sara. He had simply known the man longer. Sara still had managed to find a place in his heart and he cared for her like she was family; she was a sister to him as much as Greg was a brother. He could find fault with both of them, and yet hadn't wanted to blame either of them at the same time. His only hope was that things could resolve, and they would be like normal in due time. These were his last thoughts before he fell asleep himself.

When he woke the house was still quiet. Part of him had expected Greg to be up already, but knew also the man might still be sleeping given his events in the previous days. It was also possible that Greg had left on his own; again. Nick wouldn't put anything past him, especially considering that he had rested throughout the day. Refreshed, and still stinging from all that had happened, it was very like Greg to walk off without telling anyone. That was what had prompted him to check on the man in the first place.

Shortly after opening the door however, he had closed it. He was bemused, slightly shocked, and completely speechless. What he had seen had left him sitting on the couch, trying to figure out what had happened. He could clearly remember turning Sara away earlier that morning. Yet there she was, curled up near Greg, the pair fast asleep as though it was perfectly natural. An amazing feat, considering earlier Greg hadn't even wanted to hear her name.

He knew it was possible that Greg had let her in. But it was unlikely. He had seen Sara drive away, had watched her leave. Even if she did return, he would have heard knocking at the door. His room was closer to the door than the one Greg was occupying. That left only one plausible assumption, and it wasn't one he wanted to think about. Surely Sara wouldn't have…

Then again, she may have. Nick could only shake his head, unsure if he should be angry at what had transpired, or thankful that the two were no longer quarrelling. He just hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. But then again it had been easy to always see the wanted interactions between them. Maybe it wasn't happening so quickly, rather instead it was moving slowly, coming to a completion after all of this time without their knowledge.

With a sigh he moved off the couch, realizing then there was only one thing he could truly do. Put in an extra order for take-out. Surely everyone would be hungry when they finally did wake up.

**The End**


End file.
